


All is Red

by DoodlD



Category: Hermitcraft RPF, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Family Fluff, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I hope, Light Angst, Vampire Mumbo, Vampires, duh - Freeform, the hermits are a happy family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:48:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 35,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22681231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoodlD/pseuds/DoodlD
Summary: Mumbo goes through a transformation from his machine, "The Saturator," and a very odd one at that. He struggles to work with the changes and it's a lot more difficult than he expected it to be...-In other words a Vampire Mumbo fic!
Relationships: Mumbo & Grian, Mumbo & Xisumavoid, Mumbo Jumbo & Iskall85, Oliver Brotherhood & Charles | Grian
Comments: 180
Kudos: 365





	1. It Starts

Mumbo took careful steps as he exited the contraption, a shakiness in his legs that hadn’t been present before. He placed a hand on the outer wall of the machine to steady himself. 

The foreign dizziness still crept behind his eyes as he peeled them open, grateful for the sturdiness of the wall that kept him standing. With his mind reeling he blinked a few times to clear his blurred surroundings, what was once rough shapes melded together started to become more crisp and recognizable. 

It was then that something made him pause, a vibrant hue stood out from the rest, and it was... him? He gently shook his head, only slightly regretting it when the full throbs of a headache greeted him. Though, now that he was more coherent, he took another look at himself, his arms, specifically. A harsh, vibrant red-tinted his skin, and as he looked further, it apparently coated the rest of him as well. 

Swallowing down the rising panic he felt creeping up into his chest, he stepped away from the wall. Rubbing his hands up and down his forearms as he attempted to calm his thoughts. This was fine, he could deal with this, everything’s fine!

Unknowingly, he had curled in on himself slightly in those few moments, his arms tightly wrapped around his body in a sad attempt of a self hug. Why was he panicking about this? He just turned red, nothing more! Right? 

A spike of sudden doubt hit him like an arrow through the chest, making his lungs feel smaller. Too many thoughts of what if’s crowding his aching head. 

Mumbo groaned aloud to himself, frustrated with his body for bombarding him with unwanted panic. He steadied himself with a few deep breaths, feeling his tense muscles slowly release themselves of their tight grip. As his limbs relax he feels the heaviness of fatigue weigh him down, urging him to give in to its pull, and honestly, he couldn’t fight it even if he wanted to. 

With weighted feet he tightened the straps on his elytra, double-checking that it’s straight on his back before firing a rocket to take off. The pleasant feeling of the cool air pushing against him as he flew was welcome. Hey may not be the best flyer on the server, that title definitely went to Grian, but he still loved it. 

It didn’t take long for his base to come into view, its giant globular shape familiar and comforting. He landed gently near his greenhouse which held his bed, unclasping his elytra from his back and placing his items in the nearest chest. 

The red of his arms and suit were disconcerting, but his sluggish mind could only focus on getting sleep right now. He entered the greenhouse and basked in the enveloping warmth. Trudging over to his bed he threw off his shoes wherever they would land. It’d be fine, he could pick them up later. He then tossed his suit jacket and tie along with them before climbing under the sheets, a deep sigh escaping him. 

Perfect. 

Things would be fine when he woke up, he was positive. 

...

He shouldn’t have been as positive. 

——————————————

It was hunger that woke him from his restful sleep. A deep pang that radiated from his middle, gnawing away uncomfortably. 

Mumbo sat himself up slowly, a hand lightly holding his shirt right over where his growling stomach is. He sat there silently for a second, listening to the ocean waves hitting his base, contemplating what he should eat. He wasn’t exactly the best cook. He wasn’t awful, but if he tried anything more than chicken he’d likely burn it...

His persistent stomach let out another angry growl and he jumped. Laughing at himself quietly he went to grab something from a food chest. He quickly got dressed, picking up his shoes and clothing from where he’d thrown them previously, and walked out.

The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over the skies and water. Mumbo smiled to himself, grabbing some carrots and taking a moment to enjoy it. Everything was calm, peaceful, the sunset, the waves... With this atmosphere, he took a quick bite of a carrot.

Only to spit it out a second after. 

“What in the?.,” Mumbo mumbled to himself as he inspected the golden carrot in his hand. It looked normal, why had it tasted so awful then? “Maybe they went bad.” He dismissed it, going to throw them away. Though, his stomach still nagged at him to eat something. 

Mumbo was still fussing over what to eat, or if he’d have to cook up something when he heard the sound of rockets from overhead. A quick lookup confirmed his suspensions and his face split into a grin at the familiar red sweater. 

“Mumbo!” Grian came down in one smooth spin, landing swiftly a few feet away from him. Mumbo gave the beaming hermit a friendly smile in return, standing up from where he had previously sat to walk over. 

Grian had been looking down to unclasp his elytra, only looking up when the taller hermit had walked up to him, and when he did his eyes became saucers. 

“Mumbo! What on earth happened?!” His hands reached out to the other, his hands coming to feel the suit, which had turned red along with the rest of him. 

“My machine had some, um- difficulties, I’d recommend not using it for now!” The red hermit laughed softly, a hand coming up to scratch at the back of his neck. 

Something was off, though. He could feel it. His hands felt like the couldn’t stay still, like the movement was absolutely necessary. He tapped them against his legs as he listened to Grian talk, trying his best to pay attention to his chattering friend. 

Apparently he wasn’t trying hard enough as Grian snapped his fingers in front of his face, a concerned but amused expression doting his features. Mumbo flinched away from his fingers out of surprise, giving his friend an apologetic smile. 

Mumbo went to scratch the back of his neck again but paused halfway through the motion, deciding against the nervous tick. 

“Sorry about that, mate, must’ve got lost in thought,” Mumbo said with a sigh. He eventually gave in and reached a hand to the back of his neck, scratching it gently as the silence stretched. 

He supposes he’s always had this nervous tick, he’s definitely at least had it since he first joined the world of hermits. It was just something that was normal, comforting in a way, even if his neck did get irritated if he was nervous for days on end. 

He jerked his gaze up from where it had been resting on their feet when he felt a smaller hand wrap around his wrist, gently pulling it away from where he had been scratching. He met eyes with Grian who was wearing a friendly smile, dropping both their hands. 

“Are you alright, Mumbo?” Grian asked with sincerity, “you keep zoning out, he finished. Worry was crossing his features, a few extra creases in the builder’s brow and forehead where there hadn’t been before. 

The taller didn’t respond for a few moments, letting his twitchy hands mess with the buttons on his suit. If Grian noticed his fidgeting, he didn’t give anything away.

Finally dropping his hands, he nodded, in reality, he could be better, but he supposed he wasn’t exactly feeling awful. Grian didn’t seem impressed with his answer, or lack thereof, and crossed his arms, dipping his head down to pin Mumbo with a stern look. 

“I’m fine, Grian, really I-,” he found himself cut off by a low growling noise and he felt an embarrassed blush creep up his cheeks at the sound. Grian looked mildly surprised before his face split into a wide grin, giggles beginning to make their way out of the builder’s mouth. 

Mumbo startled to chuckle along with his friend, their infectious laughter making it impossible not to join in. The sounds of the two laughing filled the once still air, giving it a much lighter feel. They laughed until their sides hurt, until they had to hold on to each other just not to fall over. 

He loves these moments. 

Those times when he could unwind with friends and just let loose, put any Redstone stresses behind him and just relax. 

Their laughter died out into just some chuckles here and there, any previous worries are almost completely forgotten.

“Guess you’re hungry then!” Grian got out after a bit more of his giggling, “how about we make something to eat, yeah?” The builder held out his hand for the other to take, grinning like a madman when he did. He started dragging the taller behind him before even waiting for an answer, leading to a small kitchen area within the giant, open base... he had forgotten he had a kitchen in all honesty. 

The two meandered about the small-ish space, looking for things to use to make a proper meal. Turns out Mumbo had more than he thought he would. They found some simple spices, a variety of meats and vegetables, some pans, and finally some cooking utensils. So, it turns out Mumbo had more than he thought he would. 

They set to work on starting their meal, each stumbling around different sides of the kitchen as they did their own parts. Grian has the task of preparing the side while Mumbo prepared the chicken. He heard Grian humming a small tune to himself as he chopped some vegetables, a melody that filled the room with that much more life. 

The thing is, the hermits, of course, were all close friends and loved to get together as frequently as possible. Yet, with all of them having their own projects to tackle it could be rather hard to find the time. That’s why Mumbo loves these little moments so much, just having another person around makes his giant, empty base not quite as empty. 

Mumbo continued to work on prepping the chicken in front of him, content to simply listen to Grian’s humming as he did so. It was nice, it added some background noise aside from the sounds of cutting, chopping, and just hustling around the small space. 

The redstoner happily continued to season the chicken, a soft smile adorning his features as the warm, bubbly feeling of happiness settled in his chest. Grian continued to hum, sometimes even bouncing along to the tune as he expertly continued to dice the vegetables before him. Occasionally Mumbo would join in, adding his own little bits to the song, in which Grian would dance with a little more energy. Things were nice. 

It didn’t take much longer for the pleasant moment to go awry. 

Just a slight miscalculation, the smallest little slip, and blood.

Grian, while chopping the vegetables, accidentally cut his finger. 

The builder had let out a small gasp as it happened so quick, before frowning at the offending finger, going over to the sink to clean it. It wasn’t anything, or, it wasn’t supposed to be anything, but somehow that little misstep was all it took. 

After Grian had washed it off and applied some pressure, the small cut was nothing more than what one would assume to be a paper cut, barely bleeding, not deep. It was only when the smaller looked up that he had noticed Mumbo had gone completely still, his hands gripping the edge of the island like a lifeline. The redstoner’s knuckles were white with the amount of strength he was using to grip it. 

Hesitantly, so as not to startle him, Grian reached out a hand towards his friend, a question close to forming on his lips. 

A noise akin to a growl is what stops him in his tracks, however. It was so low you’d barely hear it if you were more than a few feet away, but Grian was right behind him and was frozen from the sound. It was in that split second that the builder suddenly found his back against the nearest wall, his friend roughly pinning him against it. The growling sound was much louder now, and Grian was nearly trembling with fear.

“M-Mumbo?” Grian’s voice came out shaky and small. He tried to free his hands from the harsh grip they were in, only for Mumbo to tighten his hold with another growl. “Mumbo!” Grian tried to a plea, tears forming at the edge of his eyes. 

It seemed like that did the trick, because all of sudden Mumbo wrenched himself away from the other, his red eyes wide. His breathing was labored as if he’d been holding it during that whole exchange, and it seemed to only quicken. 

“I-,” Mumbo tried to speak but his vocal cords refused to listen, his throat tight with emotion and something else. 

Grian managed to shake himself from his frozen state, fear driving him to rise from where he had sunk to the ground and run. Mumbo reached out after to him, but he already too far ahead. No! He needed to apologize! He needed to explain! 

But could he?

Mumbo himself didn’t even understand what just happened, or why he just did what he did. The moment that Grian cut his finger all Mumbo could feel was hunger. All-encompassing and maddening, it was all he could feel, and the next thing he knew he was looking down at a petrified Grian. 

The sound of rockets reached his ears, signaling Grian’s exit. 

“More like his escape,” Mumbo said bitterly to himself. He had to sit down, it was all too much. The hunger, the panic, the sadness, the fear of what just happened. 

Mumbo looked down at his red-ish skin, glaring at if it had mocked him. He didn’t know how, but he just knew that his machine did this to him, whatever it did. He lightly pressed a thumb to his forearm and watched it slowly transition from the near-white back to a pale red. 

He growled in frustration, then flinched at the sound. It wasn’t natural, it was too much like an animal’s growl, barely what should come from a person. 

With a heavy sigh, Mumbo straightened up, rising to his feet from when he had sat down and went to go clean up the unfinished dinner. In a way, it hurt to look at the incomplete meal, it is a reminder to how frightened he had made his friend. It had been so nice, peaceful, and then he had to go ruin it by… doing whatever it was he was doing, driven by hunger. 

He started by putting the chicken in a freezer, it still had seasonings on it but it’d be fine. Mumbo scrubbed the island clean, put the spices away, put the chopped vegetables in little bags, and then he got to the knife that had started it all. There were little drops of blood on it from where Grian had cut himself, then never got the chance to clean it himself. 

Mumbo found himself slowly picking up the knife, his eyes not straying from the small dots of red on it. It was like he was under some sort of spell, only able to focus on the blood, the red, the smell of it- wait, what? Somehow Mumbo had just caught on that he could, indeed, smell the blood, even with it being so minuscule, it was definitely there. Like the builder, it had a slightly sweet scent overtop your typical metallic one. 

As he thought about it Mumbo hadn’t even realized that he’d been slowly bringing the sharp object closer to his mouth. It was just barely grazing his lips. Feeling himself being driven by instincts, he opened his mouth just the tiniest bit, just enough to dart his tongue out and lick one of the drops. 

Instantly, Mumbo could feel something, the hunger grew more intense but was duller at the same time. The weirdest part was the fact that it had tasted good. Hesitantly, he lapped up another drop, shivering when the flavor hit his tongue. He was just so hungry, and for some bizarre reason the blood was fueling him. Before he knew it he had licked the knife clean of all the red. His hunger was still raging, but it felt the slightest bit calmer. 

Mumbo looked down at the now clean knife in his hands, only to drop it seconds later, taking a wary step back.

What had he just done? Why did he do that? What was wrong with him?!

Mumbo bolted out of the room, wanting to be as far from the kitchen as possible. Too much had happened there and it felt terribly suffocating. He didn’t know where he was going, only that he didn’t want to be in that room any longer. Mumbo came to a full stop in front of his greenhouse, or bedroom. Flinging open the door he entered it, his breathing heavy and labored from sprinting across his base. 

This spot was calming, nothing at all like the rest of his home. While most of the base was made out of white, hard concrete and had machinery all throughout it, this part was quiet. It had soft grass under his feet, a looming oak tree that acted as a cover, and soft greens. Mumbo often found himself in this room in times of distress, whenever a project failed or wasn’t going right he’d come here to cool off. 

Sometimes his friends would come and find him there, they’d come in and comfort him. It was mostly Iskall and Gri-

Oh. Right. 

The redstoner felt guilt creep up his limbs and into his chest at remembering the builder. He hadn’t even gotten the chance to apologize. Some friend he was.

With shame he pulled his communicator from his suit pocket, holding the small screen in front of him. Slowly, he pulled up his private chat with Grian, the guilt making his eyes sting with unshed tears. He began to type a message, then deleted it. He started again, only to erase it. Over and over just writing messages but never sending them. Until he settled on one. 

Mumbo > Grian  
I’m sorry. 

Mumbo put the communicator away without waiting to see if Grian would reply, opting to curl up on his bed. He idly tugged on a loose string of the bed’s comforter, letting his mind go blank as he repeated the motion. 

It didn’t take long of that for sleep to tug at the tall man’s mind. He snuggled deeper into the blankets, a sleepy sigh leaving his mouth. Even though he slept just a few hours ago the events that have taken place since then have left him drained. 

Sleep started to pull him under into its calm darkness, and it was only then when his tongue shifted in his mouth, that he felt his canines replaced with two sharp points. 

He fell asleep.


	2. Concrete Powder and Chickens

He woke up slowly, his mouth feeling like it was full of cotton, and his stomach feeling like a void. Mumbo let out an uncomfortable groan, clutching his aching stomach with annoyance. It growled and rumbled at him, begging for him to fill it. He didn’t want to, having an inkling of what it wanted him to fill it with. 

Begrudgingly, he left the comfort of his bedsheets, swinging his feet over the side of the bed as he stretched his arms over his head. He sat there for a few moments contemplating his next move. On one hand, he had plans for today that he prepared yesterday before this whole mess. Yet at the same time, he felt like the hunger was beginning to get to his head. He’d figure it out as he’d go along, he supposed. 

He rose fully off the white bed, hearing the satisfying cracks and pops as he did so. Mumbo followed through with his usual routine: pick out his clothes, which was most times, his trusty suit, brush his hair, groom his mustache, then finish off with brushing his teeth. 

He pulled on his clothes before heading to a small bathroom he had nearby. Grabbing a nearby brush he combed his crazy mess of hair to be neater. It was still a little jarring staring back at a red version of himself, but he supposed he’ll have to get used to it for now. Mumbo then reached for his toothbrush, running it under the water and slathering on some toothpaste. He opened his mouth to brush and-

He fell backward. 

In his defense; He didn’t exactly expect there to be two really sharp and long fangs to be sitting in his mouth where his canines used to be. 

Mumbo sat there on the cool tile floor, barely even feeling the slight ache from landing on his bum. With numb hands he pushed his lips back, letting his fingers graze against the sharp teeth. They weren’t too different from his canines, in all honesty. Just longer and with a more pointed tip. Like for cutting into flesh. His brain supplied the thought unhelpfully. 

More curious than worried now, Mumbo tested the sharpness of them, pressing the pad of his finger against the tip of one. Almost instantly a small well of blood beaded on the finger and he flinched in surprise. 

Unlike the previous instant, he didn’t react to the blood, maybe because it was his own? Nonetheless, it still had its own scent. It wasn’t sweet like Grian’s, it was more earthy than anything else. With a shrug Mumbo wiped the blood from his finger and got off the floor, finishing with his morning routine. 

He walked out of the small bathroom, feeling himself relax slightly as the rising sun cast warm rays onto his skin. The light rays bounced off the white concrete, illuminating his base in a way that seemed almost ethereal.

Mumbo walked up to his storage system, tracing his fingers along the rows and rows of chests until he reached the ones he needed. Hey may be in a rough position but like hell he was going to let it stop him from continuing his work. 

With newfound confidence, the redstoner grabbed the materials, a few stacks of white concrete, white glass, cyan terra-cotta, a variety of wool blocks, and a shulker box stuffed to the brim with redstone components. To say he was prepared was an understatement. He lugged the supplies over to an emptier part of his base, ready to get to work.

A few hours passed as he placed, broke, wired, and rewired the build. He didn’t exactly have a set idea for what he wanted it to be, mainly just going with the flow and keeping what looked good to him. Of course, he had added in a piston door. It was who he was, okay? Sue him. 

The sun was high in the sky when he found himself placing the last of his white concrete blocks. Mumbo felt a frown pull at his features, annoyed as he had been in a good workflow. Merely brushing away the inconvenience he paused to walk over to his storage system to check for more. He checked, and checked, and checked...

He was out of concrete. 

Mumbo held back a loud groan. He didn’t want to have to go to the shopping district to get more, but he couldn’t just go out and gather the materials he would need to make some. It’d take too long, and he needed to get this project done today. He mulled over his options a little bit longer, though he already knew where he’d have to go to get what he needed. 

So, he needed to go to the shopping district... crap. 

Mumbo pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. He should’ve been more prepared, should’ve gotten more concrete before this whole mess. Though he guessed it was inevitable, he’d have to leave his base eventually, right? 

He closed the chest he had been looking in previously and walked over to his greenhouse. Grabbing his elytra from where he had hung it up, he clasped it on tightly, adjusting it as needed. Once he was sure it was secure he looked around for his rockets, finding them on his bedside table. He wrapped his red fingers around the stack of rockets gently, looking down at them with worry creasing his brow. Nervousness and hunger ate at his stomach. 

Before Mumbo could chicken out, he planted his feet firmly into the ground and fired a rocket. He shot into the air, the wind catching the open wings of his elytra allowing him to glide freely. 

He could just grab some concrete from Sahara, but he was sure Iskall and Grian would get at him for it. 

Grian. 

Thinking of the builder still caused a pang in his heart. As of right now Grian still hadn’t responded to his message, and Mumbo would be lying if he said that didn’t hurt. Not to say he didn’t understand, he wouldn’t want to talk to himself either. He physically shook his head to disperse the thoughts. Yes, it was a problem he had, but it wasn’t his main problem right now. He couldn’t force Grian to talk to him if he didn’t want to. 

Mumbo took a minute to land in the heart of the shopping district, debating where he should go. A few shops came to mind that he could grab some concrete from, but he wasn’t confident that he wouldn’t run into other hermits. That was just something he couldn’t risk right now. 

His empty stomach growled at him and he just glared at it, mumbling a quick, “shush,” before continuing. 

As Mumbo meandered the many shops he felt a small smile form on his face. Just looking at the wonderful creations all of his friends took the time to make always made him feel happy. The bountiful colors and styles all intermingled beautifully, organized chaos, if you will. 

A specific shop caught his eye as he walked past and he let out a tired sigh at the sight of it. It was a fairly small shop, one that Wels had built in the beginning of the season, but it should hopefully have what he needed. Walking up to it he bent down to access the chests, looking through them. After sorting through the various chests for a few minutes he stumbled across stacks of white concrete powder. 

He just couldn’t catch a break, could he?

Nonetheless, Mumbo grabbed as many stacks as he could hold in his inventory, putting his payment into the chest shortly after. Since it was only concrete powder he’d have to find a quick way to turn it into concrete... 

“Why can’t this day just have mercy on me?” Mumbo rubbed a hand down his face in heightened annoyance. He prepared to take off into the skies once more. He managed to make it into the air despite the extra weight he had on him, firing many rockets to make sure he stayed up. 

Mumbo took in the scenery as he flew, trying to calm his rising nerves. It felt like a weighted ball in his chest that only got heavier as he approached his destination. His palms felt sweaty despite the cool air rushing past him and his limbs felt restless. 

After a bit more of flying a particular building came into sight, one that was both wonderful and terrifying to see. 

Sahara. 

Near it sat the machine he planned to use, the, somewhat, automatic concrete maker. Now repaired after some unfortunate incidents involving some TNT it stood ready to be fired up. He landed as gently as he could on top of it, carefully not to fall off the edge. 

This was risky, he knew it was risky, with how much noise the machine makes, but he needed to get it done sooner or later. 

Mumbo took a deep breath to hopefully loosen the knots in his stomach before he flipped the lever, starting up the machine. Instantly the TNT started dropping and exploding into the pool below, now he just had to put in the concrete powder and he’d be set.

He sat in an open spot on the machine and got comfortable, or, as comfortable as he could, and started placing the powder in. Bit by bit the concrete washed away into the chest at the bottom. Though the machine was terribly loud he couldn’t say it wasn’t satisfying. 

He was so wrapped up in watching the machine work he hadn’t even noticed when someone walked up to him until they placed their hand on his shoulder. 

Immediately, Mumbo’s head whipped around to gaze at whoever approached him. He was met with a wide smile, green clothes, a well-groomed beard, and one familiar electronic eye. Iskall. Crap.

Trying to hide his rising panic, Mumbo gave him a closed-mouth smile, careful not to let his new, sharp fangs show through. Iskall had turned the machine off so they could hear one another better, turning back to face him, a goofy expression on his face. It was welcome.

“Mumbo! I hardly recognized you with all that red! What’s up, dude?” His energy always showed through his voice, it was so happy sounding no one could help but smile, which Mumbo did. Deciding not to talk, Mumbo simply shrugged his shoulders in reply. The motion had felt a bit more jagged and tense than he had wanted it to. 

It seemed like Iskall had picked up on his strange behavior, his blinding smile becoming a smaller, more comforting one. Iskall made a motion to let him know he wanted to sit beside him, Mumbo scooted over to give him room. As the other sat close to him he hunched in ever so slightly, trying his best to avoid eye contact. 

It was like his senses were heightened. He knew Iskall wasn’t even bleeding, but he could still smell the faintest hint of his blood and could hear his heart pumping. It was too much, and it made his stomach grumble quietly. 

It seemed like Iskall noticed his discomfort and laid a hand on his shoulder, “You okay, man?” It was a sincere question, one he didn’t know how to accurately respond to. Mumbo was tempted to just answer with a nod, but he thought better of it. Clearing his throat slightly he spoke. 

“Yeah, I’m okay.” He had made sure not to let his mouth be seen as he talked, resting his hand against his cheek in a way that made it not visible to the other. Mumbo glanced to the side when Iskall remained quiet, only to be met with an unsure look. He licked his dry lips, wincing slightly when his fangs cut his tongue a bit, he still had to get used to them. “I really am, Iskall, promise,” he added, turning to face him a bit more with a small smile. 

The other studied his face for a moment, his eyes narrowed just slightly as if he could glare the truth out of him. It seemed like he couldn’t find anything, though, as he let out a sigh.

“Alright, I trust you, dude.” Iskall sat back from where he had leaned forward in his investigation, and Mumbo relaxed at that. The two Architechs sat together in silence for a few moments. The sun was getting lower in the sky, casting a red-ish glow across the biomes. There wasn’t much sound, just a small breeze pushing past their ears. It was nice, it gave him time to think. 

Maybe it was the calm, comfortable atmosphere that made him say it, or maybe it was just because he needed to. Still, Mumbo had broken the silence with, “Grian and I had a fight.”

Mumbo was almost as surprised with himself as Iskall seemed to be, a flabbergasted look printed on his friend’s face. He clasped his hands in front of himself and in his lap, squeezing tightly. Ugh, why did he say that? It wasn’t even the full truth! He’d scared Grian off, cornered him like prey. Grian had every right not to talk to him!

“What happened?” Iskall had turned his whole body to fully face him, now, concern showing in his eye. He cut a quick glance at his friend before he let out a tired sigh, he shouldn’t have said anything. 

“Grian came over to my base yesterday, we were just going to have dinner, but then I-,” he was struggling to respond, a choked feeling climbing in his throat. He wasn’t about to cry, was he? Mumbo felt a drop land on his clenched hands and he made quick work of wiping his eyes, refusing to meet Iskall’s gaze.

“It’s okay, Mumbo, you don’t have to tell me,” Iskall murmured, reaching his arms out to hold him close. He leaned into the embrace, holding back his small sobs.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, Mumbo’s stifled cries having slowed down to some sniffles. He couldn’t find it in himself to pull away, letting himself sink into Iskall’s comforting hold. The warmth of the other helped his tense muscles relax, his steady breathing making his own even out. Iskall’s heart was a steady rhythm in his ear, a rhythm that, as he paid closer attention, seemed to become louder and more apparent.

Confusion filled Mumbo, was Iskall okay? A quick lookup to the hermit confirmed he looked okay. The beats only appeared to get louder and louder, and he was about to speak up when his stomach growled loudly enough that there was no doubt his friend heard it. Iskall let out a surprised, loud laugh, before breaking into a fit of hearty laughter. Mumbo tightened his grip slightly on the other hermit, panic filling his system. 

He wouldn’t be laughing if he knew. The thought was unwelcome, and he shook his head to disperse it. He was hungry, and the other’s proximity surely wasn’t helping. As his mind kept running, filling his mind with panic-ridden thoughts, he lurched away from the other, gripping his head as he tried to steady his labored breaths. Iskall had stopped laughing at that, looking onward in concern. 

Mumbo looked up as Iskall reached towards him, his eyes wide. A mistake that was. As soon as his eyes met the other hermit’s he noticed that his gaze wasn’t focused on his own eyes, but instead his mouth. His tongue felt along the jagged teeth he felt there and froze. Iskall was staring at his fangs, he knew. Mumbo instantly closed his mouth with a quiet snap, his hands coming down from their grip in his hair to hover by his sides. 

“Mumbo...,” Iskall’s hushed voice was the last straw, it was all it took for his already tense body to spring into action. With one quick movement, he rose to his feet, grabbing his rockets from his inventory and sprinting to the side of the platform. He was vaguely aware of his friend’s yell of his name, but that was the last thing on his mind. 

He had to get away, he couldn’t risk hurting another one of his friends, he couldn’t! Mumbo let himself fall forward, the rushing air pushing the wings of his elytra open, and he took off. He flew towards his base, away from Sahara, away from the concrete machine, away from his friend. 

As he saw the giant globe that was his base, he only sped up. With panicked urgency, Mumbo landed hard on a platform at his base, the force of his landing nearly causing him to topple over. His limbs were shaking, his fangs felt like they were aching from the hunger. He needed food, and he needed it now. 

He heard the clucking of chickens nearby, his head instantly snapping to the noise. With an animalistic growl, he ran to where a small group of the feathered birds stood, picking up the nearest one. Without hesitance, Mumbo leaned his head down and sunk his fangs into the neck of the chicken, killing it instantly. He nearly moaned as the taste of blood filled his mouth, lapping it up greedily, it was just what he needed. He proceeded to suck the bird dry, drinking up its blood until the trickle slowed to a stop. 

Mumbo took a few deep breaths as he pulled away, his eyes trailing over the now-dead chicken. Frustration and shock flooded his system, it hit him so suddenly he dropped the chicken into the seawater, where it was washed away by the waves. He looked down at his now stained clothes, the white of his suit tinted with a dark crimson, splatters of shimmery blood showing on his coat. 

This was wrong, what had he just done? Even if it was a chicken, he shouldn’t have, he shouldn’t have. What was wrong with him?!

A regretful sobbed slipped past his blood-stained lips, it was all too much, it was too much. Mumbo ripped off his suit coat, throwing it to the ground and stepping away from it like it had burned him. With shaky breaths, he sprinted further into the heart of his base, falling to the ground when he tripped. He didn’t bother with getting up, just pushing himself until his back hit a wall, curling in on himself. 

Mumbo had duly noted that his hunger had calmed down, but he pushed it away, not wanting to think about what drove him to feed on that poor chicken. 

He hugged his knees to his chest, letting the tears that stung his eyes freely slide down his rosy cheeks. His hands were clasped together in a tight grip, his knuckles white from the pressure he held them in.

The hermit sat there as the sun fully set, and the moon rose. He sat there when the crickets began to chirp. Sat there as the breeze blew through his base, causing a chilling sound to ring in his ears. He sat against that wall as his back ached, and his arms grew stiff. 

Finally, he sat there as the sun began to peek above the horizon, dawn came, and the sound of rockets sounded from overhead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter! I'm actually pretty happy with this one and hope you enjoyed it! Kudos, comments, and constructive criticism are all greatly appreciated! :D


	3. Architechs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, like the little dumbo I am, I totally did not notice that when I copy and pasted this from my google doc that ALL my italicized words were un-italicized! So from now on, there will be italics! That being said, I went kind of crazy with how much I wrote but I was just LOVING writing this chapter, hope you enjoy!

He heard the rockets overhead, he didn’t bother enough to pay more attention. His head ran in circles, the lack of sleep has done nothing to slow his thoughts. It had struck Mumbo sometime through the night that he hadn’t even gotten the concrete he needed, but he felt that it wasn’t quite as important as his situation. 

Blood. It was something that seemed to plague his mind. Even with the chicken he had practically sucked dry the previous night, it had only done so much to quench his thirst. Though he guessed that the maddening hunger for it wasn’t new, he had felt it from the moment he stepped out of that machine. 

The very second Grian’s blood’s scent hit his nose his vision had gone red. Ironic. He’d only come back to himself when the scared builders’ cries, and boy had it been quite the call-back. 

The sound of feet touching down near him made his head shoot up. _No_! He shouldn’t have ignored the rockets. It was just such a common sound he hadn’t had a second thought about it. Everyone on the server flew past his base at least every once and a while, it was second nature to never mind a person flying by. 

With rising panic, Mumbo shot up to his feet, putting a hand on the wall as his head swam. _He had to get out of here_. He pushed off from the wall and let his gaze wander frantically, looking for any kind of escape. Footsteps getting closer, _where’s an exit_? Breathing picking up, _he needed to leave_. Voices saying his name, _he couldn’t hurt them_. 

He felt a hand take hold of his arm and he couldn’t help the sound that escaped, something akin to a deep snarl. It was enough to make whoever grabbed onto him let go, and he didn’t have to wait a second before he took off. 

The redstoner pushed forwards, trying not to trip over his shoelaces that had become loose. Mumbo then rounded a corner, barely wincing when a nail ripped into his suit coat. He’d deal with it later. 

Frantic eyes darted around with hope, open wide as he took off, sprinting to the outer edges of the island. 

_Maybe if I’m quick enough I could hide in my underwater bunker_. A plan was set, he supposed. With only a quick glance behind himself to see how far behind whoever was chasing him was, he suddenly split off into a different direction, veering to the side. 

The ocean was in sight. 

Mumbo tried to pick up his speed, but his long legs were aching and wouldn’t move him any quicker. _Faster, move, you can’t let them catch up_. In a desperate attempt to quicken his pace, he widened his strides, pushing off each bound with more force than the last. 

Perhaps he should’ve seen the flaw that came with that plan. Though, to be fair, he’d been too preoccupied in escaping to notice the downside. 

With one too powerful movement he propelled himself a little too far, stumbling to try and not fall to the ground. Somehow, his legs kept moving, despite his attempts to steady the long limbs. 

As he put his arms out in front of him to try and obtain a bit of balance he found himself being knocked to the grassy floor. Mumbo let out a loud yelp of surprise as he fell forward, feeling a weight against his back. 

It felt like it had happened in slow motion when in reality it took place in a matter of seconds. 

A huff of breath escaped him as he hit the ground, the heavyweight on his back pushing out any air he had left from the impact. Mumbo let out a loud grunt of discomfort, hoping that his “attacker” would ease up. Whoever was atop of him shifted back a bit, allowing his lungs to greedily suck in the air they needed. 

Apparently, there wasn’t only one present there as Mumbo heard some footsteps shuffle up behind them. He tried to swivel his head to look behind over his shoulder but a hand kept his head in place. With an inquisitive noise, Mumbo forced the top half of himself to sit up a bit. 

“Just stay down you spoon,” a heavily Swedish voice sounded right behind his ear. _Iskall_ , his mind supplied him. The tone held an amused lilt to it so he couldn’t find it in himself to be too frightened at being held down. Emphasis on “too.” 

“Iskall, let me up, please, mate?” Mumbo tried to keep the weariness out of his voice but a little bit of a waver slipped in. 

“We’ll let you up,” Iskall said, and Mumbo let out a relieved sigh, “when you tell us what’s going on with you.” It only took that last segment to make his entire body tense. _No, he couldn’t tell them! Not happening! They’d hate him, kick him out, resent him! They’d_ -

“Mumbo!” Another distinct voice broke him out of his thoughts, and he opened his eyes. _When had he closed them_? He saw a familiar pair of black boots in his line of sight and he slowly trailed his eyes up to sheepishly meet the gaze of who crouched in front of him. 

His gaze met the other’s dark one. _Grian_...

Mumbo opened his mouth to speak, to sputter out apologies, anything to let the other know his regret and guilt. Grian stopped him before he could say anything by holding up his hand. 

“I already know you’re sorry, Mumbo, and I forgive you.” His tone seemed stern but friendly, and he gave his friend a baffled look. Grian continued, “I’m sorry I didn’t respond to your message, but now we can all talk about it, okay?” A warm smile appeared on the builder’s face, comforting and apologetic at the same time. 

Mumbo returned the beaming smile with a small one of his own. The amount of relief flowing through his system let him relax under Iskall’s weight, and he let out a soft sigh. It seemed like that was what the pair had been waiting for as Iskall slowly got off from where he sat on his back. 

Once the Swedish man had stood up he held out a hand for him to take, which he took gratefully. 

Taking a moment to look down at himself he grimaced at the tattered suit he wore. There was a small rip in the shoulder on one side, that thankfully didn’t reach the skin, and dirt caked over the front side. A downright mess. 

He was busy trying to clean himself up when Grian spoke. 

“Should we go sit somewhere or?..,” Grian posed the question as the three of them stood there somewhat awkwardly. It wouldn’t be a bad idea, certainly better than just standing in a random part of his base. 

Another question was where. Honestly, he didn’t have very many parts in his base that were suited for lounging around. He hadn’t built his base with the intention of it being cozy. He was a redstone engineer, focused on making his builds more functional than good looking. Though, he still spent time making them look nice. 

“Don’t you have a kitchen somewhere around here, Mumbo?” The inquiry was asked innocently, but it still made both him and Grian cast a glance at one another. Personally, Mumbo didn’t want to go anywhere near that kitchen space, he hadn’t even cleaned it up since the incident! Unfortunately for him, however, it didn’t seem like there was a more practical spot. 

“Yeah, it isn’t very clean at the moment, though,” Mumbo spoke sheepishly, bringing a hand to scratch at the back of his neck. 

“Oh, that’s alright, dude!” Iskall waved a hand at him, putting the other on his hip. The Architech held a wide, goofy grin on his face. Needless to say, it was contagious. “I’m sure it’s not _too_ bad, not like it’s Grian’s storage system!” The mentioned hermit squawked in fake offense and molded his face into an exaggerated pout. 

The three of them all broke into a fit of laughter at that, their noses scrunching up. Their chuckles and chortles rang around the space. It was strange how something so small had put them all in hysterics, not that Mumbo was complaining. 

Through his giggles, Grian made a weak attempt at defending himself.

“Alright, it’s not _that bad_!” Though, the statement didn’t hold much sway as the builder was still holding back laughs. 

“No, you’re right, mate, it’s horrible!” Mumbo added, which only caused the three of them to laugh more. 

Of course, though, Mumbo made sure to cover his mouth. 

It took a minute or two for the Architechs to fully come down from their amused high, but once they did the atmosphere was notably lighter than it had previously been. 

“Let’s get a move on, then,” Mumbo said with a sigh, dusting a bit more of the dirt off his suit. He began to walk in that direction, the two hermits following closely behind. They didn’t talk on the way there, it wasn’t awkward, not really, but it unsettled him a bit. 

_What are they thinking_? That was a thought, the question, that kept bouncing around his head. His friends loved him, of course, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t react badly to his... situation. 

Mumbo idly ran his tongue over his sharpened canines as he thought. He believed it was a new habit that might be forming, he supposed its better than scratching his skin raw. As long as he doesn’t cut his tongue, that is. 

Within the next minute, the three men arrived at Mumbo’s little kitchen space. Just as mentioned, it looked the same as how he had left it.

He nervously cast a glance at Grian, trying to search the builder’s face for anything negative. Nothing on the other’s face was signaling any discomfort, so he assumed that to be good. 

“You were worried over nothing, Mumbo! It’s really not bad,” Iskall reassured him with a beaming smile. He sent the Swede a thankful glance, then placed his hands on his hips as he looked at the mess. Well, “mess” was maybe a bit over-exaggerated. There were just some random scattered items. Honestly, what were some of them even doing in a kitchen?

“Thanks, Iskall.” Mumbo looked around the small room with a pensive look. “I can clean it up real quick, so we can use the island to chat,” he offered to the others. They gave him a smile and a nod so he got to work. It would only take a few minutes.

They all chatted as he worked, just small talk if anything. Like, how were their bases going along? Any new projects? 

Before long he had the counters and island cleared of any possible clutter. Mumbo then found some taller chairs in the corner of the room and dragged those over as well. 

The hermits all sat down in silence, Mumbo being on one side with Iskall and Grian sitting on the other. 

He twiddled with his fingers, the red skin going paler when he applied pressure. In all honesty, he had to give credit to his friends. They were so patient with him and sat silently, giving him time to answer anything he wanted. Mumbo took a deep breath.

Where should he even start? Where _could_ he start? Using up another minute of silent thinking, Mumbo looked up from where he’d been staring at his hands, meeting the friendly gazes of the two sitting in front of him. He returned the gesture with a tight-lipped smile, too self-aware of the pointy teeth that wanted to peek through. 

With hesitance, he parted his lips to prepare and speak, what about, though, he wasn’t sure. 

A chair made a loud screeching sound as it was pushed back across the concrete floor, just loud enough to make him jump. It was Iskall who stood, wearing warm eyes. 

“You look like you’re about to puke, man. Why don’t I grab us some snacks and waters,” Iskall offered to the pair, who side-eyed each other in mild confusion but nodded nonetheless. As the Swedish man rose to go grab food from the pantry, Mumbo looked down at his hands in his lap. 

This whole exchange wasn’t going quite as he had planned for it too. Well, actually, he didn’t plan for this at all. His brows furrowed. In fact, he’d just been wallowing in his base in an attempt to get away from the other hermits. 

_Yeah and that obviously worked out_ , Mumbo thought with bitter amusement.

Grian, who was sitting across from him, cleared his throat to get his attention. With only a bit of hesitance, he looked up to meet the builder’s eyes, trying his best not to look as guilty as he did. He must’ve not have succeeded as Grian gave a reassuring smile before he spoke. 

“You’re thinking too much, spoon.” The classic nickname made the corner of his lips twitch up into a smile.

“I know,” he answered,” it’s just-“

“I’m back!”

“Oh my word!”

An armful of snacks and drinks had been ceremoniously dumped onto the island, making Mumbo yell and Grian nearly fall off his chair. 

“Wow, you guys are jumpy,” Iskall muttered, mostly to himself, taking his spot back in the seat next to the blonde-haired builder. The Sweden man wasted no time in grabbing a bag of chips that lingered in the pile, opening it up swiftly and practically inhaling them. Mumbo and Grian shared an amused look before grabbing some food of their own. 

This is when it had hit Mumbo, he hadn’t eaten in _days_. Sure, he had felt ravenous those two days, but never for food, and it had gone away after his- erm- encounter with the chicken. Even now, he didn’t feel particularly hungry for the apple he had snatched from the massive mound of snacks. 

He turned his head slightly away from his friends as he took his first bite into the apple. The fangs that held themselves in his mouth still caused him to feel... not quite embarrassed, but more self-conscious. His teeth had sunk into it with a satisfying snap of nice, crisp fruit. He chewed it for a few seconds, then his face morphed into one of disgust. Just like the golden carrots from days ago, the apple tasted _awful_. 

Another look at the red fruit confirmed nothing was wrong with it. _Great, just great. I can’t even eat normal food anymore_? Mumbo stopped chewing, he wanted desperately to just spit it out, to get the foul taste out of his mouth. Unfortunately, he knew just how weird that would look and he forced himself to swallow, setting the apple back on the island. 

If the other two noticed his odd behavior they didn’t let on. 

Where to start? He assumed the best place would just be the very start of it all, right? With an internal nod to himself, he prepared to speak. 

“You two remember how I built that “Saturator” machine, right?” Mumbo asked them, his fingers drumming against the wood of the make-shift table. Both Grian and Iskall answered with a nod. “Well, it didn’t work as I had hoped,” he gestured to himself and his red-tinted skin with a nervous grin, one that his friends returned. 

_Okay, not a bad start_.

Mumbo took a second to swallow down rising nausea in his throat before continuing. 

“S-so, it turned my skin red, obviously, but that wasn’t the only thing it did...” Was it getting hot in here? One look at the other Architechs confirmed it was probably just in his head, he hoped. 

“What did it do?” His head snapped up as Iskall asked his question, the question.

Sweat was building upon his forehead and the back of his neck. Nausea he had pushed down returned with a punch, making him hunch over to hopefully make it ease. He put a hand over his mouth. 

“Mumbo?,” Grian rested a hand on his, “You look pale, what’s wrong?” _Pale_? A quick look down at his arms confirmed Grian’s statement. Where his skin would normally be a more saturated red was replaced with a rich pink. Surely that wasn’t good. 

Remembering that Grian had asked him a question he responded with a shaky nod. 

“I-I’m fine,” he replied as he cleared his throat, “so, y-yeah, it didn’t, um, work the way it should’ve.” Getting words out was proving to be a struggle with his ever building nausea. “Actually, would you two excuse me for a moment?” Without waiting for their replies he exited to a bathroom nearby. 

Mumbo practically collapsed against the toilet, his stomach muscles clenching as they prepared to push out what he had just eaten. Maybe he shouldn’t have eaten that apple. 

The door to the little space opened just as he puked the first bit. He felt a comforting hand rub circles in his back while another pushed the hair back from his forehead. Mumbo gave them an appreciative grunt, gripping the edge of the seat hard enough for his pink skin to turn white.

The heat was unbearable, he always got overheated when he got sick like this, and it sucked. Because of that he swiftly took off his torn suit coat, resting it on the tile floor next to him. He was thankful for that decision when another wave of painful nausea wracked his body. 

They stayed with him as his stomach emptied its contents. It was truly unfortunate, he didn’t want to have to drink another poor chicken dry, but here he was. Once it felt like his stomach was truly empty, and the last of his dry heaving was over, Mumbo sat back from where he had been leaning forward. 

As he did that though, the sounds of his friends’ gasps filled his ears, at first he struggled to understand their concern until he looked at what his stomach had emptied. It was just red. Just looking at the bowl made his stomach churn. 

“Guys, it’s okay, I can explain-,” Mumbo tried to explain before getting cut off by a concerned, screeching Grian.

“No, Mumbo! You can’t just throw up blood and be okay!” He frowned at the amount of fear in the builder’s voice. He understood why it would be concerning, but to be fair, they hadn’t given him a chance to explain. 

With a tired sigh, Mumbo stood up somewhat shakily and flushed the bowl. Both of his friends held out their arms as if to try and help support him but he gently pushed them away. 

His stomach growled unhappily at being empty and he couldn’t help but feel annoyed at it. Apparently Grian and Iskall heard and could only give him a look of bewilderment. 

“You just puked your guts out, how are you hungry?!” Iskall’s voice rose in pitch like it does when he’s amused, and surprisingly, it seemed like he kind of was. Mumbo chuckled along with the other as Grian continued to look on in confusion. 

“Look, clearly I’m struggling to give you guys a verbal explanation, so... maybe I could just show you?” Mumbo asked it timidly, his shoulders hunched up as he threw a hand to point behind him. Basically, the thought process he had was: if he couldn’t sit down and tell them, showing them would be the next best option. _What if they think I’m a monster_? The thought made his burning throat tight, and he couldn’t help but choke out, “just... please don’t think differently of me.”

“Never!” Iskall and Grian happened to say it in unison, and the three of them smiled lightheartedly.

“Okay, follow me,” Mumbo began to walk towards the outer part of his base, the other Architechs follow not far behind him. As they walked he felt all sorts of nervousness, was he really about to show them what a _predator_ he has become? Though he had to give credit to the two, they were sticking by his side despite everything. 

They finally came to a stop at Mumbo’s Architcech mail system that he shared with Grian. He clenched his hands into tight fists by his sides, he didn’t want to do this again. Well, he did, but he didn’t. He wanted them to see because the visual experience would do better than any of his stammered sentences. Then, he also didn’t, because he could never stand them being afraid of him, or even worse, _hate him_. 

Mumbo steadied himself with a few deep breaths, then checked over his shoulder to see if they were still paying attention. They were. Better now than never, he supposed. 

Chickens were what he was looking for. For once, there were none out in plain sight for him to snatch up. Guess he’d have to find them without sight. 

Closing his eyes he put more attention toward his hearing, focusing on the sounds that came from all around him. The most obvious was the steady heartbeats of his friends. Trying to hear something else, he turned his head to the side. Small clucks and small, hammering rhythms of multiple heartbeats hit his awaiting ears. _Bingo_.

Without hesitance, Mumbo bolted into the system itself, finding a few stray chickens meandering the space near the chest. As they scattered in surprise from his sudden presence he grabbed the nearest one, holding it close to his body as it squirmed. He honestly felt bad for the poor thing, but it’d be no different than when one would kill them for cooked meat. 

With quick steps, careful not to jostle the chicken too much, he exited the building to stand in front of Iskall and Grian. 

Without warning he quickly snapped the neck of the chicken, killing it instantly. It was the most humane thing to do. With only a mere glance at the two very confused hermits standing in front of him, he opened his mouth wide and sunk his aching fangs into the neck of the bird.

He barely heard the small gasp that came from someone, who, he wasn’t sure, but he was too focused to think further into it. The blood that ran into his mouth and down his throat was warm and somewhat sweet, something close to the taste of cashews. He proceeded to drain the chicken dry, only pulling away for a breath when the trickle of blood ended. 

His stomach felt fuller again, not quite satisfied, but no longer empty. Certainly more comfortable than before. Mumbo took the chicken and laid it in a hole nearby, swiftly filling it with dirt. He felt like it was the least he could do for it. 

Licking his red-stained lips with finality he looked over to where he left Grian and Iskall to stand. Their mouths were both wide open, but he didn’t exactly see fear or hatred in their eyes, which was relieving. Yet, they still hadn’t said anything, and that made him slightly concerned. 

“So, erm, yeah. I crave blood now, I guess.” Mumbo scratched the back of his neck nervously, dropping his gaze to his feet. “I guess it kind of fits the whole red aesthetic, huh?” His attempt at a joke felt like it fell flat from how much his voice was trembling. With shaking fingers, he fiddled with his red tie, rolling the fabric around his fingers as he awaited any sort of answer or reaction. 

It was another few moments of unbearable silence when he heard the grass give way under the weight of footsteps. Mumbo barely had time to look up when- 

_Oh god, they were walking towards him, they hated him, they were going to ban him, kick him out_ -

They wrapped him in a tight hug. 

It took a good five seconds for his brain to catch up with the sensations around him. Iskall and Grian’s weight against him was warm and comforting, their arms looped around in the form of a group hug. Now that his brain wasn’t lagging behind, he slowly lifted his arms, wrapping them around his friends’ shoulders. 

_This is nice_. 

It was terribly warm, but not in a way that made him want to move. If anything, it made him sluggish. 

_That’s right, I didn’t sleep last night_. 

It was maybe around noon now, so if he were to accidentally fall asleep and take a nap it wouldn’t screw up his schedule too much. 

Between his satiated hunger, lack of sleep, and the warm weight of his friends against him, Mumbo found himself dozing off. Apparently Iskall had sensed that as well and straightened him up. 

“Don’t fall asleep on us, dude,” he chuckled with amusement, steadying him as he swayed on his feet. “Did you sleep last night, Mumbo?” Iskall was answered with a head shake, to which he was scolded playfully by the man. 

Iskall and Grian supported him as they made their way to his classic greenhouse. He was set down on his white sheets softly, a hand combing through his hair briefly before it lifted. A happy sigh escaped him, he hadn’t been aware of how tired he was until he was given a moment to truly relax. 

As he drifted off into unconsciousness he caught sight of his two friends’ set up beds of their own, swiftly settling into them. It didn’t seem like they were planning on taking a nap with him though, as they started to talk lowly to one another, careful not to disturb him. He didn’t mind. 

With the soft sounds of the waves and the murmurs of the two Architechs near him, Mumbo drifted off to sleep, catching up on the rest he needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed reading this chapter! Comments, kudos, and constructive criticisms greatly appreciated! :D


	4. A Creeper and Laughs

When his eyes fluttered open the first thing he was met with were two deep purple eyes staring right back at him. It startled him enough that he sat straight up in his bed and flung himself against the backboard with a shout. It’d been just a little more graceful if he hadn’t hit his head against the glass wall behind him. 

“Woah! Take it easy, Mumbo,” a familiar British voice cut through the rising headache forming at the back of his head. He looked up with bleary, half-woken eyes at a familiar green jumpsuit and big hermit. Oh, Xisuma was here. _Wait, why is he here?_ “You alright?” Mumbo blinked as his sluggish brain processed the question, to which he responded with a slow nod. 

Xisuma beamed at that. Though you couldn’t see his actual smile through the visor it was easy to tell when he smiled because of his crinkled eyes. Maybe to some, it might be hard to tell, but the hermits knew each other well. 

His gaze traveled past the admin to where Iskall and Grian stood behind him. They must’ve recognized his confused, almost betrayed, look and Grian jumped into an explanation. 

“Sorry for the surprise, Mumbo Jumbolio,” Grian paused to chuckle at the nickname. “We figured it would be a good idea to let Ex-eye-zuma know about,” he vaguely gestured to Mumbo’s entire being, “um, all that happened.” Grian finished his brief explanation with a wide smile.

The redstoner took a second to look between the three men in front of him, and he suddenly felt small. While he sat on his shorter bed the other hermits stood tall. He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t at least slightly intimidating. 

He cleared his throat, sitting up more fully so he had some height on the others. 

“Alright, so...,” he trailed off, glancing up at Xisuma then back down again. What he was _attempting_ to get across was essentially, ‘why are you here? What are your plans for me?’

Mumbo was fiddling with his fingers when a gloved hand stopped his fidgeting. He met eyes with the admin who wore a soft look, one of comfort. Xisuma gave his hands a gentle squeeze before he leaned back. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not here to do anything to you, okay?” The admin held a serious tone, but one that also had a hit of amusement to it, which was only exaggerated as he said, “no crazy experimenting here!” 

Even though Mumbo gave him a playful eye roll, he was truly grateful for those words. Realistically he knew he shouldn’t have a reason to be so afraid of the others hating him, sometimes mistakes happen, things go wrong. They still loved one another, and those mistakes didn’t change anything. 

Xisuma made a motion with his hand to tell him to scoot over on the bed, which he did. The admin sat next to him, one leg stretched out on the bed while the other hung off the edge. Iskall and Grian sat on the beds they set up previously, turning to face the two of them.

“These two only told me the basics of what’s going on. Want to evaluate anything they might’ve missed?” Xisuma asked him politely, leaning more against the board at the head of the bed. He swiveled his head to look more fully at the admin before talking.

“Well, uh, okay.” He brought a hand up to undo a button at his collar, letting the shirt not hold onto him quite as snuggly as it had been. “So, I guess you know the basics, I drink blood now, I’m red... clearly,” he added on with a small, anxious chuckle, gesturing to himself and his red skin. “I can drink animal and human blood, but the only animal blood I’ve consumed so far has been chickens.” Where could he go past that? Was there anything more he should add? 

He drew a blank, there wasn’t really much else he could tell... except-

“Though, uh, now that I think about it, I guess I can kind of lose control around blood, especially if I’m hungry,” he mumbled so lowly that the others could barely catch a word. Mumbo had tried to keep his voice steady while he said that, but he found it hard. It isn’t every day you had to confess to your friends that you were suddenly turned into a blood-sucking _monster._

Taking his eyes off his hands that had rested in his lap, he looked to the admin who had kept silent. What he saw there was a pensive look, certainly one of curiosity, but he could’ve sworn he saw _something_ else in that inquisitive stare. Worry? Concern? It seemed like it. Though, which side he was worried about was a mystery. 

Probably doesn’t want me to hurt anyone.

Mumbo shrunk in on himself, moving his arms from their resting position to hold onto his long, lean frame. It was a form of self-soothing, he supposed, the warmth of his arms and the pressure they gave him. Consistent, but not too overstimulating like the touch of another person could be sometimes. 

He felt the gaze that was on him lessen and he couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. That gaze had been Xisuma’s, who was now getting up from the small bed. 

“Well, it’s unfortunate for me to say I don’t know how much I can do to help in reversing the transformation,” Xisuma started, putting his arms above his head in a stretch. “However, it is definitely doable, so no worries!” The admin put his arms back by his sides and on his hips. 

“That’s good! You won’t have to be red forever, Mumbo!” Grian cheered loudly in the small room, clapping his hands together happily. Mumbo gave the smaller a bemused but cheerful look, a small smile gracing his features. 

“Indeed! Thank you, boys, for making me aware, and I wish you luck on working to get him back to normal,” The admin said excitedly. “If there’s anything you need me for just message me! I’ll have my communicator on me at all times.” 

With that they all said their goodbyes, it was an interesting time, to say the least. Though, Mumbo felt a little bit lighter from it all. Knowing that Xisuma wouldn’t hate him and ban him, _however silly that idea was,_ it still made him bounce on the balls of his feet when he walked. 

“Well! I supposed we should get started then, huh?” Iskall spoke up from where they’d been lying about. It might have been about half an hour since Xisuma left them to their own devices, so they haven’t been laying around for too long. 

The others seemed to be reluctant to leave him by himself as if they were afraid he’d try to hide again. Honestly, he couldn’t blame them, it was kind of sweet that they wanted to stick around. 

“Get started on what?” Grian looked up from where he’d been sketching a building idea, confusion showing on his face. 

“Getting Mumbo back to normal! We can’t just leave him like this, dude,” he lamented, gesturing to the man himself. Mumbo gave him an almost offended look, to which the Swede gave an apologetic stare. “You know I’m right!” Iskall spoke with all the passion he would if he were working on a redstone project, and he couldn’t help but feel a tad flattered. 

“I’m not doubting your logic there, mate. I just don’t know where to even begin,” Mumbo spoke with hesitation, bringing a hand up to his neck. 

“I’m sure we’ll be able to figure _something_ out,” Grian chirped, walking over to Mumbo and removing the hand from his neck, “we are the Architechs after all!” The builder’s gleaming eyes shone with determination, a spark that seemed contagious. 

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Iskall jumped up from where he’d been seated, pumping a fist into the air. 

Mumbo looked between the two with silent laughter, his shoulders shaking from trying to hold in his chuckles. He loved these dorks. To show his gratitude he hopped off his bed and enveloped the two in a tight hug, pushing his face into their shoulders. They both returned his hug with glee, giggling amongst one another. 

To be honest, he felt like the situation couldn’t have gone better. His friends accepted him, they didn’t hate him or were scared of him, they were even going to _help._

“Thank you both, truly,” Mumbo whispered as he tightened his hold on the other two. Iskall patted him on the back while Grian practically purred into the embrace. They all stayed like that for a few more moments before disconnecting their limbs and wearing matching smiles. 

“So! To get started, I was actually drawing up a few blueprints for the machine that could change him back, one second!” With that the builder went to the other side of the room where he had been drawing previously, sorting through a mass of papers. _How did he even draw that much?_ When the smaller one found what he was looking for he held it up with pride, skipping over to the two redstoner’s where he had left them.

The picture was a tad bland, though that was likely because it was drawn in a matter of minutes. There were scribbled notes jotted down along the sides and some arrows pointing around. All in all, the sheet was a mess. Though they could still make some sense of it, and they supposed that’s all that mattered. 

Grian seemed to notice their blank looks and went into his explanation of the piece.

“I know I know, it’s not my best work, but it’s a start.” The builder pointed to the overall structure of it, “I pictured there being either a simple circle shape for the foundation or a rounded square. What do you guys think?” 

Iskall and Mumbo nodded their approval, looking over the blueprint with interest. 

“It’s a good starting idea,” Iskall remarked, moving his face closer to the paper to read the messy scribble of notes. “But we don’t know any mechanics quite yet...,” he added, leaning back and putting a hand under his chin in thought. 

“Not yet, because that’s where you two come in!” Grian pointed to the two of them simultaneously, a wicked grin splitting into his face. 

Iskall let out a few big cackles at the gesture while Mumbo chuckled in a more formal manner. 

“Of course we would, dude! If we let you touch any of the redstone he’d turn into a chicken!” Iskall was losing it over the thought, clutching his abdomen and putting a hand on the glass wall for support. Mumbo and Grian let out a few laughs at the sight. Then, the builder gasped as a sudden thought came to him. 

“Wait! You’d be Poultry Man’s sidekick!”

That got all three of the men in hysterics, heads back as laughter reverberated through the small greenhouse. Mumbo fell back down onto his bed, a hand over his eyes as tears formed in the corners. Once again, he loved his dorks.

The Architechs all took a few moments to catch their breaths, wiping nay tears that had formed in their eyes from the intense laughter. For the moment, the only sounds filling the small space were some chuckles and heavy breathing. 

It was odd, though. These kinds of moments in the past few days have happened more than they have in the past months. He guessed, despite the obvious downsides, it was nice to spend so much time with friends. 

“Alright dudes, let's get going!” Iskall practically hopped up and down where he was standing, rushing to the door where he held it open for Grian and Mumbo. The two hermits walked through the door somewhat ungracefully as they giggled, trying not to stumble over their feet. “I didn’t know a door was that funny,” Iskall chuckled to himself watching his friends. 

Once the three of them managed to compose themselves they all equipped their elytras to take to the skies. With individual cheers, the rockets in their hands fired off and they were pushed vertically into the blue sky. Once distanced clouds got closer by the second, enveloping the trio in a film of cool mist. 

They let out bellowing laughs as they circled each other, enjoying just flying around. Mumbo stumbled here and there, Iskall flying rather normally, meanwhile, Grian soared in the air like he was born to be in it. The builder did flips and twists very few hermits would dare to attempt. Mumbo and Iskall cheered him on as they flew over the shopping district. 

Their destination was hermit land, though, it may have been a better plan to travel there via the Nether, but they’d already committed to flight. It wasn’t bad, they had one another for company, laughing, chatting, doing tricks, just having fun. 

Finally, hermit land came into view, and as they readied to land, Mumbo couldn’t help the breath of air he sucked in. _Bright colors, flashing lights, the sounds of pistons in his ears._ Before he knew it the ground was right there, and he crashed into the dirt, his hands had _just_ barely enough time to move in front of his face. 

_The Saturator._

His lungs felt like they couldn’t take in any air. Every deep inhale was met with his lungs’ resistance. _Why couldn’t he breathe? Why did he feel so much panic and fear?_

It was just a machine! _A machine that changed him._ This was fine! _He couldn’t breathe. Just calm down!_

All at once it felt like he came back to himself, a jolt back to reality. It took a few seconds for the rest of his senses to catch up with his body, and once he did he saw a concerned Grian and Iskall in front of him. _Well dang._

“Are you okay?” His friends’ voices overlapped as they asked the question, and Mumbo had to let himself come a little more fully back into the real world before his response. 

“I-,” Mumbo stopped with a stutter in a poor attempt to form words, “sorry, I guess seeing the, uh, source of all this startled me.” That’s all he could figure. He honestly couldn’t be sure, he had never had experienced anything _close_ to this before. 

“You don’t have to apologize, man,” Iskall reassured, patting his shoulder, “I know I’d be a bit intimidated too if that had happened to me!” His words made Mumbo’s tense shoulders ease up and his heart slow its intense hammering in his chest.

“Thanks, Iskall,” Mumbo replied, putting his own hand overtop the one Iskall had laid on him. 

Hesitantly, he walked up to the contraption, his heartbeat growing louder in his ears. _The source of it all_ , he thought to himself. 

With red-tinted, trembling fingers, he rested a hand against the cool surface of the white concrete frame. _One little machine did all this._ His gaze drifted from the concrete to the tubes going into it. Perhaps he pulled a little too much color from the ground, considering just how _saturated_ it made him. 

Mumbo couldn’t help but smile to himself at his own little pun. 

Turning around with new-found inspiration his fierce gaze met the matching ones of his friends. 

“Let’s get building, boys!” The three all came together for a quick high five, instantly getting to work. 

For the next hour or so the Architechs sat on the grassy floor next to the contraption, looking over the countless blueprints they had all sketched. They made sure to make a list of the items they’d need for it to function, such as redstone components, glass for the tubes, and the materials for the building itself. 

“It’s a good start,” Grian chirped, then continued, “but how is it all supposed to work?” Of course, the builder wasn’t handy with redstone, but he still had a basic understanding of it. Even so, Mumbo, the redstone engineer himself, had gotten his first contraption wrong it seemed. 

“Well, it’ll be similar to _The Saturator_ , right?” Iskall then pointed to a few notes he jotted down on the papers, “just instead of pulling color from the ground, it will, um, squeeze the color out.” The Swede chuckled a little nervously at the last part, unsure of the reactions it’d receive. 

“That’s great and all, Iskall, but how on earth are you going to get this machine to _squeeze this blood-thirst_ out of me?” Mumbo raised a skeptical eyebrow at his friend, sitting back with his hands supporting his weight. The man raised a finger to shoot back a retort, but it seemed his argument died on his tongue.

“Mumbo has a fair point, Iskall, the red skin should be easiest to handle, but we still don’t even know why he basically turned into a vampire in the first place!” Grian waved his arms above his head in exaggeration as he spoke. The redstoner himself tried not to flinch at the word, “vampire,” but found it difficult.

A vampire was essentially what he was, though, wasn’t it? The thirst for blood, the fangs, it made sense. It also seemed like the builder caught a glimpse of his wince and shot him an apologetic stare. Mumbo just returned it with an understanding smile. 

“We’ll work on the details later! For right now we should get started on the build,” Iskall cut in, rising to his feet and dusting his pants free of dust that wasn’t there. Grian and Mumbo hummed their agreement, also rising from the grassy floor. “I’ve actually got the perfect spot,” Iskall said, turning to point across the small river to an open spot. 

“You’re right, Iskall! That’s perfect!” Grian bounced on the balls of his feet, launching his elytra to quickly fly to the other side. The other two laughed at his antics, following the builder to the other side. 

As they touched down Mumbo’s stomach let out a loud and hungry growl. The trio stopped for a second before Grian let out some giggles. 

“Stay right there, you spoon, I’ll get you a chicken,” the builder stated, walking off to grab one. Mumbo was about to stop him when Iskall just pulled him back, shaking his head at him. Well, guess he couldn’t do anything about that, then.

It only took a few minutes before a Grian came back holding a limp chicken in his hands, tossing it to the redstoner. He caught it, just barely, and gave the smaller a smile and a nod to show his appreciation. 

“So, you go ahead and eat that while Iskall and I get started,” Grian offered, grabbing some concrete from his inventory. Though, to be honest, it sounded more like an order than an offer, so Mumbo relented. 

With that the Swede and the builder got to work on the basic structure, tumbling around one another as they worked. He sat on the side occasionally sucking on the neck of the chicken where he’d punctured its neck with his fangs. He felt a little bad for not helping, but he knew they really wanted to help, and he needed to eat anyways. Though it wasn’t like he was doing nothing, he’d give feedback on it when they’d ask, they all chatted and it was just like normal. 

They were maybe an hour in when they heard rockets coming in. The trio looked up to see a hermit with a familiar lab coat landing nearby. The creeper man walked over to them, waving with a friendly smile.

“What’s up my dudes, what’re the Architechs up to?” Doc asked, leaning on the handle of the trident he was well known for carrying around. Mumbo felt like he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the weapon, his whole body tightening. Iskall and Grian looked between him and Doc, looks of understanding coming to their faces. 

Iskall spoke up to hopefully ease any tension.

“Nothing much! Just working on a new thing, ya know?” The man obviously tried to keep the purpose of the machine vague, it worked for the most part.

Doc just nodded at the response, not giving away any signs that he caught onto Iskall’s hesitance. The creeper then straightened himself, picking up his trident fully and walking up the contraction they had been working on. He seemed to be inspecting it, looking more intrigued than anything else.

“Looking good so far, what is it supposed to do?” And there it was, the question none of them wanted to have to answer. All of them sent silent, worried glances to each other, or, Grian and Iskall did, Mumbo seemed to be frozen.

“Well,” Grian started, “it’s supposed to, uh, desaturate a person?” His words sounded unsure, but it wasn’t exactly a lie. It just wasn’t the whole truth. Doc’s head cocked to the side in confusion, so Iskall jumped into an explanation.

“Mumbo’s saturator didn’t work out right, so now he’s really red,” The Swede said with a small laugh. 

“Speaking of which, where is Mumbo?” Doc asked while he looked around the area, but then his eyes fell on the mentioned hermit, who begrudgingly raised a hand in a weak wave. 

The creeper mans’ eyes squinted as he studied the redstoner, making his hands feel clammy with anxiety. _Does he know?_ Mumbo thought it couldn’t get worse until Doc started walking up to him. The hermit was intimidating, okay? Sue him. 

He hunched in slightly on himself, clutching the now sucked-dry chicken to his chest as Doc stood over him. It wasn’t exactly a pleasing sight, a tall man in a tattered lab coat and cybernetic limbs looking down at him while holding a weapon. 

“What happened to you, man?” The hermit’s voice was deep as always, and in this instance it only made him tremble more. He felt reluctant to speak, not wanting to show his fangs that were likely stained with blood.

Still, he gave the hermit a response.

“I, uh, my machine which was supposed to bring color back to me after my demise, it... didn’t work,” Mumbo stuttered out, keeping his mouth rather closed for the most part. Doc’s face remained stone still for a few seconds before he burst out into laughter, loud and abrupt.

At first, Mumbo had startled away, not expecting the cackling from the man, before he and the other hermits joined in. It was also mixed in with relief, though.

At least, it was, until Doc’s laughter tapered off somewhat suddenly. Curious as to what happened, the redstoner quieted his own laughs to look up at the hermit. What he saw there he felt like he’d never forget. 

Surprise was the first thing he’d noticed on the other’s face. Surprise that morphed into confusion, then confusion into... _oh dear._

“Doc? Everything alright?” Mumbo asked with a tinge of fear lacing his voice, afraid of the sudden tension that had filled the air. He became aware of the tight grip on the trident that Doc had, and he gulped silently. _This couldn’t be good._

“Iskall, Grian, stand back,” Doc ordered, his heated gaze not leaving the redstoner. The arm that wasn’t holding the trident was spread out as a signal to stop the two other hermits from approaching.

Mumbo pushed himself away until his back hit where a hill was, the cool, firm earth doing nothing to ground him. 

The creeper man followed him, and once he had reached the cowering engineer he kneeled down, pointing the trident at him.

“Let me repeat, what happened to you?” Doc’s gravelly voice had gotten lower Iike it does when he wants to be scary, and it was definitely effective. Mumbo had curled up completely, putting his arms above his head as if that would be enough to protect him. His breathing had picked up, and it felt like there was a tight grip on his lungs. 

“I don’t know,” he whispered breathlessly, his voice incredibly shaky as he spoke. There were tears pushing at the edge of his eyes and he tried to blink them away, to no avail. 

“Look, Mumbo, by the looks of it your transformation did more than change your skin,” Doc said with a heavy sigh, but he didn’t back away. Mumbo raised his head just enough to lock eyes with the creeper, the tears he had tried to keep at bay falling down his cheeks. He didn’t bother with a response. 

Frustrated, Doc stood back up, turning his head to look back at Iskall and Grian who’d been standing there silently during the exchange. 

“I’m taking him to Area 77.” It was said with an air of finality, but that didn’t stop the two Architechs from protesting. “No. That machine did something to him, and by the looks of it, something that makes him incredibly dangerous.” Mumbo flinched at those words, pulling his knees closer to his chest. 

The hermit in question put his hands over his ears as his friends kept going back and forth. _No! He didn’t want this, they shouldn’t be arguing over him. This was wrong! They’ve already done so much, they didn’t deserve to deal with this._

As the hermits continued to argue, Mumbo jumped to his feet, staggering slightly as he became lightheaded. It didn’t matter though, and before anyone could stop him, he ran. He had to get away, away from them, and far away.

When he got far enough away he grabbed his rockets, firing himself into the air. He didn’t have a set destination, and he didn’t care where he ended up, just as long as it was away from that situation. 

Before he knew it a familiar ice biome came into view, and a particular castle caught his eye. He’d been flying for long enough that night had come, the sun just having set below the horizon. He landed on an iceberg, only slipping a little bit. The castle would work nicely, he supposed. No one would think to look for him there, and it was big enough he was sure he could avoid Stress if she happened to come by. 

At last, he made it to the castle, walking inside the warm, inviting building and immediately going to a small room on the side. He’d take shelter here for the night and hopefully by morning he wouldn’t be found. 

His communicator continued to buzz as he set down a bed he happened to have in his inventory, so he took it out of his pant pocket and set it aside. He was positive it was Grian and Iskall asking where’d he gone and if he was okay, but he couldn’t find it in himself to respond to them.

Mumbo crawled into the small bed, shutting his eyes tightly. _Tomorrow. Tomorrow he’d plan his next move._

A fitful sleep overtook him, and he gladly accepted the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was so much fun to write!! And we're back with just a tad more angst... but just you wait for what I have in mind for the next chapter! I hope you enjoyed! Comments, Kudos, and constructive criticism are all greatly appreciated


	5. Icy Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter turned out to be a little shorter than the rest so very sorry about that! I happened to hit some writer's block and struggled with liking what I wrote. Regardless this was fun to write and hope you enjoy!!

The sun rose just slightly above the horizon, and Mumbo rose with it. He had gotten restless sleep at best, barely anything at worse. It was a combination of many things, he figured. For one, he was sleeping in a place he’d never slept before, two, he was experiencing massive amounts of stress, and three, the all-encompassing _hunger!_

Feeling hungry was something he’d have to get used to, but that didn’t mean it was comfortable. 

With a resigned sigh the redstoner sat up in his small make-shift bed, and it creaked under his weight with the movement. 

Come to think of it, the small bed also probably contributed to his lack of sleep. It was all he had on him at the time, and it was better than sleeping on the stone floor. 

Speaking of which...

Mumbo looked up and around him. He took in the sights to see there and their beauty. 

There were high ceilings in arches with wooden beams supporting some of the overhangs. The purple carpets ran underneath him along the floor, bringing in a bright, contrasting color to the rest of the grays and muted browns. 

The hermit took a minute to appreciate it as he had never had the time to before. Hermits didn’t have all the time in the world to take a tour through each other builds, unfortunately. So now that he was here he could admire the structure of it, the amount of time and work it must’ve taken. 

He and Stress knew one another, of course, they did, they were even friends, but not close ones. So, their main interactions happened in group get-togethers or if they happened to run into one another at the shopping district. 

Nonetheless, it didn’t change the fact that he was terrified of coming across the ice queen. 

_He could trust her though, right? She wouldn’t call Doc or the others... would she?_

Mumbo wished he knew her a little better to be able to judge what her actions might be. He’d find it pretty useful right about now. 

The sound of the castle doors swinging open caught him off guard. Groans and creaks echoed through the open corridor next to him and panic shot through his veins. Muffled sounds of footsteps on carpet caught his ears next, faint but there. 

_Crap, crap, crap!_

Not knowing what to do with his body, he looked at a stack of hay bales in the corner of the small room and bounded towards it. Flinging himself rather un-gracefully onto a hay bale further back in the pile, out of view from the door, he made sure to hold his breath. 

Perhaps not the best move, as he had to exhale deeply and catch his breath shortly after. 

Mumbo lowered himself more onto the hay and listened silently, his hairs standing on end and his muscles tensed to prepare to make a run for it if he had to. 

Though, would that actually be the smartest move? Stress wouldn’t know why he was running. _Unless they told everyone._ But they wouldn’t, right?

Unfortunately, he found himself doubting it. It’d ultimately make the most sense, to warn everyone of him in case they came across the now vampire hermit. 

Doc’s haunting words rung in his ears at that thought. _No, I’m not dangerous, I’m not!_

The hermit had been so trapped in his head that he hadn’t heard the telltale creak of the wooden door opening to the small side room. 

It was already too late when he finally came back to himself. 

There, stood right in front of his face, was none other than Stress, the ice queen herself. 

Without hesitation, the redstoner leaped into action, rising from the hay bale and sidestepping her, just barely slipping past. His feet carried him swiftly through the door to the room and around the corner. Maybe a little too late he realized that he was only going further into the castle instead of out, but it was too late to do something about it now. 

“Mumbo!” Stress called out for him from further down the long, wide corridor. Her voice echoed through the space, to a normal hermit the sound would’ve been a bit loud, but to his sensitive, hyper-aware ears it was _deafening._

Because of the booming echoes of her call, Mumbo stumbles a bit in his long strides, falling to the ground. Once on the floor the only movement he felt capable of doing was covering his sensitive ears, shutting his eyes tightly and hoping the few tears in the corners wouldn’t escape. That’d just be all the more embarrassing. 

“Oh dear, Mumbo!” Stress yelled out to him again, only this time a bit quieter. Mumbo had also noticed it wasn’t quite as echoey which must’ve meant she was really close. 

In the next few moments, he felt her kneel beside him. Her gentle hands carefully wrapped around his wrists to remove his hands from his ears. It was only then that he opened his eyes to meet hers. 

He was met with a sweet and genuine smile, a small breath of relief escaped him at that. 

“Are you okay?” Stress asked him softly, her hands clasping his own. He held back shivers as goosebumps traveled up his arm at her icy touch. She wasn’t called the ice queen for nothing. Worry had also seeped heavily into her voice, and to be honest, he wasn’t expecting that either. 

“I-,” he started before clearing his throat,” sorry, Stress, I guess I’m just a little jumpy.” He tacked on the last bit with an open smile, showing off his two prominent fangs. She’d see them eventually, everyone has so far, so may as well get it over with.

Stress’s eyes darted quickly down to the fangs before she reestablished their eye contact. There was no doubt she caught a glimpse of them. 

_Why hasn’t she said anything? I clearly look different._ It certainly puzzled him, but if she wasn’t mentioning it then he wouldn’t either. 

“Well, I’d say so! You got out of there rather quickly!” She laughed lightheartedly, rising from the floor. The hermit held out her hand to him and, after thinking about it, took it. She helped him stand up before dropping their hands. 

The two stood there somewhat awkwardly for a few moments, neither of them knowing what they should say or do next. 

Mumbo decided to be the first to speak up.

“So, I’ll get out of your hair, now,” he said, a hand rubbing the back of his neck. Did he really want to leave the comforting walls of the castle? Not really, he found.

Apparently she didn’t either as Stress grabbed his hand and held it up closer to her. He glanced from their hands to her face, raising a brow in confusion. 

“No, Mumbo! You’re not in my hair! Why don’t I show you around, talk a bit?” She chirped, punctuating her words with a small squeeze to his hand. 

_God her hands are cold!_

The hermit gave an appreciative smile, giving her a small nod she beamed, tugging him through the corridor. This could be nice, he figured. Again, they were friends but that didn’t mean they were besties. 

The two traveled through the large, majestic castle, even looking through the side rooms. Overall, Mumbo was very impressed with how much Stress had put into the building, even smaller details. 

As a sort of finale, Stress had brought him into a giant dining room, purple glass shards hanging from the ceiling as carefully crafted mini chandeliers. Mumbo’s jaw dropped as she led him further into the room, talking animatedly about her plans for it. 

“Oh! That reminds me!” Stress walked to one side of the room, opening a smaller spruce door to a really thin but long room. It didn’t have much of anything in it, mainly just scattered items and a furnace or two. “I have big plans for this room,” she said, twirling to look at him. 

Mumbo had to put his head all the way back to look at the tall ceiling. It certainly would be a difficult task to decorate.

“That’s pretty cool, Stress,” he murmured, still looking around the room. “What ideas do you have for it?” 

The icy hermit clapped her cold hands in excitement and pulled some papers seemingly out of nowhere. She placed them on the top of a furnace and beckoned him to come over. 

He walked up and looked over her shoulder, listening intently as she talked about her ideas. Mumbo nodded at the right times, gave affirmations, and overall just let the chatty hermit spin-off all her ideas. 

_She’s like Grian with all her ideas._

It was with that thought that his face soured, remembering what had happened with the others. 

_Dangerous. That was what Doc had used to describe him. Of all things, “dangerous” was not a word he’d ever been called. He hated it._

Fingers snapped in front of his face and he opened his eyes, unaware that he had closed him. The worry was back in Stress’s face, her own worried frown pulling at the edges of her mouth. She smiled when he made eye contact with her. 

“There you go! Back down to earth I see,” she said, ruffling the top of his hair affectionately. Mumbo gave her a soft grunt at the gesture but let her do it nonetheless. He had forgotten just how physically she showed her love, though that wasn’t him complaining. 

“I’d been meaning to ask you, Mumbo,” she continued speaking, “why were you hiding out in my castle?” Genuine curiosity and worry filled her voice. 

_So she had noticed I slept in that room_ , Mumbo thought with an internal sigh. He should’ve been more careful with giveaways like that. 

On a lighter note, however, it was now made apparent to him that Doc hadn’t spread his new secret to the entirety of the HermitCraft server. That in itself released a bunch of tension he didn’t even know he had been holding.

Stress waited patiently as he gained the courage to speak. 

“Um, yeah, I’m sorry for staying here without your explicit permission, Stress.” Mumbo messed with the collar of his shirt before continuing. He kind of missed his suit in all honesty. 

“It’s kind of hard to explain, or- well, it isn’t exactly hard to explain, it’s more of just, uh, a long story!” Mumbo snapped his fingers when finally finding the right words.

Stress just gave him an unamused look, bringing her hand up and moving it in a circular motion that screamed, “keep going!”

“Alright, so, with my newer contraption _The Saturator_ , it was just supposed to bring back my regular colors, right?” She nodded in response despite it being a rhetorical question. “So, it didn’t function properly and I came out of it looking like this,” he said, gesturing to himself and his red skin. 

“Aw, is that all? Some red skin wouldn’t change how we see you, silly!” Stress giggled at him. 

“Well, no,” Mumbo corrected, glancing away from her overwhelmingly comforting gaze. “It also, um, _made me a vampire._ ” He had mumbled that last part, but by the lack of reaction from Stress, she heard. 

“Oh... is that why you have the fangs?” She asked, cocking her head to one side. Mumbo gave her an answering nod and didn’t bring his gaze up to meet hers. 

The next thing he knew there were arms wrapping around his middle tightly. This pushed his brain into overdrive. _Is she afraid? Is she mad? Is she attacking me?!_

The hermit’s head rested on his shoulder and understanding finally clicked into place. She was hugging him. She was _hugging_ him. Mumbo tried to keep the tears out of his eyes as he leaned forward to wrap his own arms around her, returning the embrace. 

He wanted desperately to express his gratitude but his voice wasn’t working. As a substitute for words, he held her a bit tighter, letting his head droop down to fully rest against her shoulder. 

Stress hummed at him soothingly, her hand beginning to rub comforting circles in his back. 

They stood like that for a few minutes, and when she started to pull away Mumbo had to stop a whine from slipping. It had just felt so nice to be comforted, to know he was safe with someone. 

“So that’s why you were hiding away,” Stress commented, it wasn’t a question. 

“I- yes. Doc wanted to- to take me to Area 77, but I ran away...” Mumbo hung his head in mild shame, he should’ve thought his through more, he could’ve put her in danger by coming here! By running _away! I’m not dangerous, I’m not dangerous!_

_Am I?_

Mumbo forcefully shook his head, _no, he was being ridiculous._

“Oh, Mumbo,” Stress started apologetically, making his eyes snap to look at her. “I’m so sorry.” 

The redstoner gave the hermit a confused look. She had nothing to be sorry for, he had done this to himself. Just as he was about to say as much Stress put a finger in front of his face, telling him to stay quiet. Though she didn’t do it in a rude way. 

“No, I know what you’re thinking. For one, I understand that what happened was by your own doing,” she stated, her fierce gaze trained solely on him. “-but that doesn’t mean we can’t be there for you and support you, not... _lock you up._ ” Her voice cracked slightly on the last few words of her sentence. 

Mumbo made a pained noise in the back of his throat, putting his hands on her shoulders. 

“Thank you, Stress, I-,” he stopped, rethinking his words. He wanted to say he understood Doc’s reasoning, but by the heartbroken look on her face that probably isn’t something he should say. “-I really do appreciate it.” 

“Of course!” Stress leaned forward to wrap her arms around him in, once again, another hug. Though, he didn’t complain as he returned it, chuckling softly to himself at her antics. 

Of course, it was right then that his traitorous stomach decided to growl. He looked down at it with annoyance, his eyebrows furrowed. The noise seemed to have amused the icy hermit, however, as she began laughing. 

“Hungry, are we?” She asked with a bright smile, one that he struggled to return. Did she forget that he drank blood now? He could hear her heartbeat, barely smell the scent of the blood beneath her skin. 

Unknowingly he had backed away from her, holding his hands in front of himself with his palms out. 

“Look, you remember I drink blood now, correct?” He had to ask, just to be sure. Which was why he was surprised when she gave him a sure nod. 

“Of course! Uh, how much do you need?” She asked the question with timid hesitance, something that made Mumbo raise a brow. 

“A chicken’s about of blood usually does the trick for one day,” he answered, “why?” 

Instead of replying with a verbal answer, Stress held out her wrist to him silently, looking at him with a relaxed smile. 

Mumbo glanced between her wrist and her face in confusion before it finally clicked, and he instantly took another step backward.

“No! I’m not drinking a hermit’s blood.” His voice was stern and unwavering, he was set on his decision and he’d stick with it. 

She didn’t reply, only took another few steps toward him, her wrist still out in an invitation. She only spoke when he said nothing.

“Mumbo, you don’t even know if your body will like the blood of others, you’ve only had chickens, right?” He nodded, “then give it a try, I promise I won’t let you go further than I can handle.” Like the little kid she was, she held out her pinky to get him to engage in a pinky swear. 

Ever so slowly, he let his pinky lock with hers and released a breath.

_What was he getting himself into?_


	6. Sleepovers and Pajamas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again this chapter is just a tad shorter than preferable, but that's because there's not as much action as usual. But don't be deterred! It gets good near the end ;)

“What?! No!” Mumbo and Stress had been going back and forth in this debate, or argument, for almost half an hour now. _She was so insistent! It was like trying to walk a stubborn cat!_

Sure, they pinky promised, but he hadn’t expected her to want to do it right there right then!

Mumbo dragged a hand down his face exaggeratedly, sending an annoyed look to the smaller hermit who stood tall in her decision. The discussion they were having had gotten them both tired and very riled up. Though, the two both refused to budge in their decisions.

“Mumbo, you don’t _know_! You’ve been able to control yourself with chickens, right? What’s the difference with a hermit’s blood?” She edged closer to him, a twinkle of hope in her large, chocolate brown eyes. It took an effort to not instantly concede to that look, she made herself appear like a kicked puppy. 

“Stress, for the last time, I’m not risking it!” His words came out harsher than he had intended, but it hadn’t seemed to faze her. If anything, it only sparked her more. Finally catching up to him, despite his best efforts to wiggle away, she caught both his wrists and glared him down with a protective and kind ferocity. 

“I know that it’s risky, but I can just re-spawn, okay? I want to help you through this and if that means losing some blood then I’ll gladly help,” she pleaded, almost sounding desperate. 

All in all her kindness made sense, she was like a mother to all the hermits. It was just in her caring nature, and it really helped out the people of the server when they got too wrapped up in a project. He should’ve expected this kind of reaction, but here he was.

Mumbo gave her a worried look, trying to communicate his extreme hesitance with the idea without having to try and speak past the lump in his throat. 

Stress’s eyes bounced around his face, studying his creased features. With ever so slow movements she used her thumb to gently loosen the tensed muscles in his forehead. He released a small breath at the comforting touch, leaning into it a bit. The smaller hermit hummed happily at that, moving up to ruffle his hair affectionately, an action that made them both chuckle.

Thoughts continued to bounce around the walls of his head, though a headache was deterred from Stress’s brief massage. He figured he’d regret this, but if it got the thoughts to settle and Stress to calm down then maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t. 

_This could go very well or incredibly badly._

Mumbo leaned his head back until it rested against a wooden beam behind him, shutting his eyes for a few brief moments to further gather himself. Stress continued to wait patiently, bless her soul. Even when he was being so difficult and putting up a fight, she stuck around to help. 

With one swift motion he brought his head down so his eyes met hers, and with the tiniest of nods, he gave her a look that said, “I’ll do it.”

The icy hermit was radiating with joy and relief, wordlessly, except for the happy squeals leaving her mouth, she grabbed his hands and jumped up and down.

“Oh, thank you, thank you, _thank you_ , Mumbo!” Stress beamed, her eyes somehow growing even wider as she hopped in place, “I’m so happy you agreed, I was really worried about you ya know?” Her sweet, British voice was coated sweetly like honey over a warm pancake. It made the knots in his stomach loosen just that last little bit.

He doesn’t quite understand how she can be so easily giving, but that’s what he really admired about her. 

Mumbo, instead of responding with a verbal agreement, just nodded again, but Stress didn’t care about his lack of words it seemed. No, she was too busy already rolling up her long sleeves to get ready for what was about to happen.

Swallowing thickly, he eyed her now barren wrists, no sweater to hide them from his view. It was like the already horrid, intruding thoughts went from yelling to screaming in mere seconds, urging him to just bite down on any skin and _feed._

However, he pushed down such urges by shaking his head. Stress had been eyeing him curiously but he pretended not to notice her staring. 

As he walked up to her she held out both her arms straight for him to hold. Taking her left arm he gently pushed the other one back to her to let her know he wouldn’t need it. She didn’t protest. 

Just from being this close he could hear her heartbeat loud in his ears, a steady rhythm that didn’t give away any signs of fear or hesitation that the hermit could’ve been feeling. It was touching, he supposed, to know that she wasn’t as afraid as he thought she might be. 

Licking his now dry lips he looked up to her once again, just to be sure. His silent question was answered with an equally quiet affirmation. 

Tentatively, he opened his mouth to put his fangs against her wrist…

He bit down, his sharp canines easily piercing into the skin and letting small wells of blood to pop up from the bite. Warm blood coated his tongue and he had to hold back a pleased groan. Turns out, human blood tasted way better than a chicken’s. 

From the small, brief taste he had gotten of Grian’s, and his own, her blood also had its own unique taste to it. Her’s was definitely not quite as warm, likely because of the cold biome she called home, but that only added to the flavor of it. There were hints of a sort of berry, fruitiness to it, something bitter but also sweet. It was refreshing in a way he’d never thought possible of blood. 

He continued to greedily lap up the blood that counted to leak out of the small punctures, gulping down as much as he could. There was a pained grunt above him but that was easily drowned out.

It wasn’t until he had been physically pulled off that he became aware of how long he’d been drinking. With a quick lick of his lips, he glanced up to look at Stress… 

Well, she looked okay, if a bit tired. 

Still, that didn’t make him feel any better about not being able to stop himself until she had to force him to. His hands clutched his upper arms as he began to babble apologies. 

“I-I’m so sorry, I should’ve stopped I should’ve- _I’m so sorry_ ,” the words spewed from his mouth like water would from a broken pipe. He was shaking and his vision began to blur from the tears he held back. It didn’t help his situation that his brain was shooting stabbing thoughts at him, and Stress hadn’t said anything.

_Dangerous! Look what you did! You knew it was a bad idea but you still did it and ruined everything, didn’t you? She’s going to throw you out, going to tell everyone on the server, going to-_

Comforting arms wrapped around his middle and he came to, surprisingly finding himself not standing but on the floor, and with tears still flowing from his eyes. Small, barely-there whimpers were leaving his mouth with every exhale, and he couldn’t help but clutch the back of the person holding him. 

His brain was so muddled it took him a few seconds to recognize that it was, indeed, Stress who was hugging him. Very carefully, he loosened his grip but didn’t let go, not wanting her to be separated from him just yet. 

She was stroking his hair comfortingly, murmuring soft nothings from where her head rested on top of his. To say it calmed him down would be an understatement, it was like heaven. He’d unfortunately forgotten how much he adored hugs, but this was reminding him. _Maybe he should open a hug shop._ It was almost ridiculous how intriguing the idea was to him, but, that was for another time.

Slowly but surely, his muscles released from their tight grips, and he fully sunk into her embrace, a pleased hum escaping his lips. The other hermit chuckled and squeezed him closer to her.

“Are you feeling better now?” The question was double-sided, in a sense. It carried more than one meaning, but he got what she was asking. 

“Yeah, tons, I can’t thank you enough, Stress,’ he mumbled the reply, trying with all his might to not fall asleep right there and then. 

With his stomach now full, and with the little to no sleep he had gotten the night prior, it was now all catching up to him, and it wasn’t holding back. Stress had must’ve caught onto his drowsiness because she pushed him back a bit to talk to him easier, an adjustment that made him whine. 

“I know, I know, you sleepy head, why don’t I get you on to bed, yeah?” The icy hermit soothed, her voice as quiet and caring as she could make it. 

Mumbo let himself be pulled up and dragged along by the smaller hermit until they reached a wider set of doors that, if he had to guess, was her bedroom. When the two entered they were met with a big, king-sized bed draped with the softest, smoothest looking blankets. The room, like the rest of the enormous castle, had a theme of purple. From the curtains to the smallest decorations, there was purple _everywhere._

The room looked rather inviting, especially the bed, which he rushed towards and flew himself onto. Mumbo heard Stress’s laugh before she had jumped onto the same bed right next to him. The hermits giggled like mad at one another before flopping back onto the mattress. 

Stress didn’t lay down for long though as she rose from the bed and stretched. With a tired smile, she turned to face him with her hands now on her hips. 

“Let’s get you settled,” she started, going over to a rather large dresser in the corner of the room, “I might have some clothes that’ll fit you… let’s see.” She rummaged through the many drawers, picking up and putting back down a variety of clothes. Mumbo just watched silently, listening to the sounds of his breathing and his friends’ as well. 

It was certainly something new but fascinating, his enhanced hearing. It was cool to be able to hear so much more than he’d ever imagined he could. Just the smallest movements or breaths would catch his ears. It could be overwhelming, he supposed, but something he could adjust to, he was sure.

Stress returned to the bedside, throwing a pair of clothing onto his resting body. He had let out a surprised yelp, not expecting to suddenly be covered in fabric. The hermit just laughed with a hand over her mouth, her eyes gleaming with mischief. 

Mumbo gave a few chuckles of his own before asking where a bathroom or dressing room was, to which his friend showed him one of the few doors in the room. He thanked her before walking into the wide bathroom space, the cold tile beneath his feet making him shiver. 

The vampire took a second to observe the clothing he was given and smiled fondly, it was a pair of long-sleeved pajamas, white fabric with chickens patterning the sleeping garments. _Of course, there’d be chickens_ , he thought to himself. Dressing as quickly as he could manage, he exited the bathroom space, sidestepping at the door when Stress entered. 

The icy hermit was dressed in her own sleepwear, except hers was a gorgeous lavender with darker stripes. She went up to the counter to brush her teeth but stopped to look at him as she was putting the toothpaste on. 

“Oh, right! Do you want a toothbrush?” She had already pulled an extra one out of a drawer in the vanity and held it out for him to take. Which he did with a mumbled, “thanks.” 

Together, the two brushed their teeth in comfortable silence, and Mumbo grimaced at the red that went down the drain. It had been almost too easy to forget what he had done, what Stress had _allowed_ him to do. He had to keep reminding himself that Stress not only consented, but she also _offered._ That’s what was important. 

After they finished, they exited the bathroom to climb into the giant bed where Mumbo made sure to put as much space between them as possible. If he had to guess, Stress didn’t mind him staying the night, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to be cautious, just in case.

Speaking of which… 

He wasn’t sure if she was going to let him stay any more than this. _She shouldn’t, anyway._ The thought pushed its way to the front of his brain and he was not having it. It wouldn’t hurt to ask her, though, would it? 

He turned onto his other side to face her, thankfully, from the sound of her breathing, she wasn’t asleep yet. 

“Stress?” His voice sounded too loud in the dark, quiet space, and he had his best not flinch at the sound of his voice. The hermit heard him and opened her tired eyes, humming at him to tell him to continue. “Is… Is this just going to be for tonight?” 

The question must’ve gone over her head because her brows furrowed, a confused look crossing her sleepy features.

“What do you mean, Mumbo?” Her sluggish voice cut through the slightly awkward silence that had built up, and he released a breath, preparing himself to talk. 

“It’s just- I’d understand if,” he stammered over his words, trying to get the right thing out, “I’d understand if you wouldn’t want me to stay another night, and I just wanted to make sure that we were on the same page because I didn’t want you to-.” A finger on his lips stopped him from continuing his nervous chatter. 

His eyes met hers, and he was mildly shocked at the amount of comfort and love in her gaze like she was looking at a child of her own.

“Mumbo, I know that what you’re experiencing right now is… difficult,” she took a moment to let her words sink in,” but know you can stay here as long as you’d like, okay?” The vampire opened his mouth to retort but she stopped him again. “It’s your choice, you will not be a bother to me either way.” That last affirmation was all he needed for him to collapse back against the pillows with a happy sigh.

“Thank you, Stress,” Mumbo whispered, his eyelids slowly closing. 

Between the quiet of the room, the sounds of soft, even breaths, and the snug blankets atop him, he found sleep arriving easily. As he felt himself drift off into the darkness of sleep, the last thing he could feel was a hand taking his own and giving it a supporting squeeze, one that he sleepily returned as he was taken fully under into unconsciousness. 

…

It was a loud yell that woke him from his soothing slumber, and he sat up abruptly. Looking around the room nothing seemed to be wrong at first. That was until he looked to where Stress should’ve been, but wasn’t. Another loud yell of jumbled words filled his ears and he threw off the blankets, rushing over to the door to the room. It was closed when they had gone to sleep but it was now cracked, candlelight squeezing through the slit in the door.

Not wanting to leave the protection of the room, he simply pressed an ear to the crack and listened intently, trying to ignore the loudness of his hammering heartbeat. 

He heard it. It was unmistakably Stress’s voice, but there was someone else there as well. Actually, there were more than two voices… _so two people here besides Stress and I._

“Doc, look, he wants to be left alone! He hid here for a reason, and you must respect that!” Stress’s distressed voice filled his ears, and he instantly wanted to see who was making his friend sound so upset. 

“Stress, we understand that you want to protect him, but we have to take him with us! If there’s any chance that what happened to him made him dangerous then we have to make sure he’s kept separate from other hermits.” Doc’s voice was the next one he picked up, the gruff tone of the larger hermit sending fearful shivers down his spine. Who was the other hermit though?

The words of Doc, however, hit him in those next few seconds, and he crumpled to the carpeted floor. 

_Dangerous._ That word would not leave his head. 

Footsteps were heard coming further down the hall, further and closer to _him._

Panic flooded his system and he threw himself away from the door, his back hitting the dark wood of the bed. 

_They were going to find him._


	7. Area 77

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally got over some of that writer's block! This chapter is about average in length but it's a juicy one! Hope you enjoy!!

Light leaked its way slowly into the dimly lit room as the wide door creaked open. The movement was unbearably slow, so slow that Mumbo wished they would just hurry up to get this over with. 

Three distinguishing figures stepped into the room one at a time, and his eyes instantly snapped to Doc’s eyes. His red cybernetic glowed menacingly in the dark space and he shrunk more in on himself, dropping his eyes. He didn’t want to look at them head-on. 

Familiar sounding footsteps approached him but he kept his head low. Stress’s icy hands cupped his cheeks and made him look up at her. Her features were scrunched in worry, whether it was for him or for his situation, he couldn’t tell. The hermit leaned forward and held him in a tight hug, her voice right in his ear.

“I’m so sorry, Mumbo,” she whispered, her arms tightening around him as much as they could without becoming uncomfortable. It took all the strength he had left in him to not tear up as he hugged her back. 

“I’m sorry too,” he murmured, hiding his face in her neck. She shook her head and separated them from their embrace, to which Mumbo held back a whine at the loss of warmth. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for! I just wish I could’ve hidden you better.” She whispered the last part so Doc and whoever was with him wouldn’t hear. He nodded his head at her, giving a pathetic smile, but a smile nonetheless. 

With one last hug, Stress brought him to stand, and the two stood apart from one another. Stress still held onto his hand, it was something he was silently grateful for. 

Mumbo then studied the other person in the room with them for the first time. It only took a few seconds of identifying key features to see who it was in the dark room. The person wore a brown jacket with a lighter undershirt. They also had on similar brown pants with a belt buckle, and to top it all off, a signature cowboy hat sat upon their head.

 _Scar. Why is he here?_

The hermit in question, once he noticed he was being stared at, held a hand up in an awkward wave. 

Mumbo supposed it made sense, the two worked on Area 77 together and even defended it against the hippies, what a wild time that was. Still, for some reason he had not expected the extra hermit to be Scar out of anyone. Who he would’ve been expecting, he didn’t know, he just knew it wasn’t Scar. The guy was terribly sweet, if a little extra goofy sometimes, but he couldn’t possibly want to keep him cooped up in Area 77 right? _Right?_

“Hey, Mumbo! Haven’t seen you in a while,” Scar said, a nervous hint to his voice. Mumbo narrowed his eyes, though it was less out of spite and more out of defense. If he could seem intimidating enough, maybe they’d just leave him be.

_That doesn’t seem like a good idea, Doc already thinks I’m dangerous, if I try to scare them off it’ll have the opposite effect of what I want… probably._

Doc’s gruff voice cut through the silence that’d been filling the room.

“We should get going,” he stated firmly. His tone left no room for negotiating, and Mumbo shared a timid glance with Stress, who just squeezed his hand. 

“I’m coming too,” Stress butted in, a determined look forming on her features. Doc looked like he was about to refuse but she stood her ground, “no; if you’re taking him then I’m coming with.” Mumbo looked at the typically docile hermit with mild shock, and he appeared to not be the only one. Both Doc and Scar were looking at the ice queen with equal looks of surprise upon their faces. 

Scar cleared his throat to speak, raising a finger like he was about to give a speech.

“That’s quite alright! Right, Doc?” Scar gave the creeper man an almost desperate look, seemingly not wanting to debate the topic any more than necessary. The taller hermit gave a grimace but relented, giving a nod to them all before turning, beckoning them all to follow.

So this was really happening. He was actually going to be locked up in Area 77 like a science experiment. The idea of being stored in a small air-tight room is just as unappealing as it had felt a day or so prior. He was stupid to have thought he’d managed to escape Doc’s careful grasp. 

Despite not wanting to, he knew that it came from a good place, Doc wanted to protect not only the others but him as well. Even if it didn’t seem to be that way, the scary hermit had always been a sort of protector of the hermits, and that also went for each other.

The four of them walked through the halls in silence, their footsteps echoing throughout the tall space. It was too silent. So much silence allowed for too much thinking which, in his case, was never a good thing. He and his brain weren’t on the best terms as of recent. Maybe it was the machine, maybe it was himself, in either case, he wasn’t a fan.

 _This whole thing can’t be over soon enough_ , he thought with distaste.

Soon enough, the hermits reached the castle doors and opened them with a symphony of loud creaks to the outdoors. 

It was, now, in the middle of the night. Crickets were chirping away and most animals, maybe besides foxes and wolves, were fast asleep. As were most people of the server, making for a rather quiet night without the sounds of redstone machines going off at every minute. The stillness only added on to his discomfort, making chills run up his spine. 

He thought they maybe they would travel by elytra, but it didn’t seem so. No, they all just continued to walk, none of them sharing a single word. Honestly, he understood if they wouldn’t trust him to have his own elytra, seeing as it’d be so easy to fly away, but having to walk the whole way there? It just seemed ridiculous!

Apparently, Stress had the same course of thought as she sped up her walking pace to fall in line with Scar, who had been walking not far behind Doc.

“Are we not going to fly there? It would be an awfully long walk,” she started animatedly, “I think it’d just be quicker that way, it _is_ late after all.” Her speech catered on persuasive, she must’ve really not wanted to walk, then. 

Scar simply eyed her but gave her a shrug in the end.

“I think Doc wants us to not use any elytra because he didn’t offer, but I could ask him if you’d like?” Scar had offered and asked sincerely, and Stress beamed at him, practically crushing him in an appreciative hug before sending him off. The pushed hermit shot a playfully annoyed look over his shoulder before looking at Doc and beginning to talk to him. 

Stress fell back into step with Mumbo, looping their arms together and locking at the elbows. She seemed unusually chipper… but then again, he supposed she had always been that way. 

The four of them continued their trek for a few more minutes before Doc, who’d been in front, slowed to a stop and turned to face the rest of them. Wordlessly, he pulled a few elytras out of his inventory and proceeded to give all of them one along with half a stack of rockets. Looks like they weren’t going to walk this out, then.

Mumbo gratefully accepted the pair of artificial wings, sliding it on as easily as he could with his rumpled pajamas. Which just reminded him he was wearing the chicken pajamas Stress had handed him, still. He really missed his suits. 

Once all of them had equipped what they needed to they all took to the skies, flying swiftly over the lands at a significantly steady pace. 

It didn’t skip over his mind to see if he could escape the group of them and just fly away, but he decided against it. As much as he hated the prospect of being cooped up in a cell and being tested on, if it proved him to not be dangerous then he supposed he could suffer through it for a bit. Besides, it wouldn’t exactly help his case anyways, now would it?

Stress and Mumbo stuck together behind the two Area 77 hermits, even goofing around a bit. Of course, it was Stress who started the shenanigans, being the playful person she was. Mumbo had gone along with it though, it was honestly in good fun and lightened the mood just a tad. They did have to be careful not to waste their rockets at the same time, but the two managed. 

With the four hermits and their elytras, it didn’t take them long to reach the… “camp.”

Just the sight of the tall, barricaded walls and the threatening look of the grey contrasted with the vibrant yellow and black made him uneasy. He’d passed over this area plenty of times before but never had he ever felt the need to go in. _Nor had he ever been forced to._

They landed somewhat ungracefully on one of the many roadways, and Doc wasted no time as he beckoned them to follow further into the facility.

Soon enough, the menacing walls welcomed the four of them into the building itself, a wide but somewhat dim place that held a variety of strange items. As terrifying as all of this was, it was also surreal to experience the place and actually get to get a further look into the build that the two hermits had spent so much time and effort on. To say it was impressive was an understatement. 

It seemed like the building went on forever. The hermits had only been walking around for what was probably ten minutes or so, but to Mumbo’s frantic mind it felt like an eternity. Every second he had to stand in suspense of where they were taking him was another second of _torture._

Maybe he was being overdramatic, but to be fair, he doesn’t know what to expect from the two hermits taking him to this place. They clearly wanted _something_ from him! Otherwise, they wouldn’t be taking him to this prison-like place. Well, it was only sort of like a prison, he supposed.

They all continued to walk down a narrow corridor that had an iron door at the end. A child-like excitement bubbled up inside him as he observed the door. It wasn’t just a regular door, no, it had a lock to it. If there was one thing that always got Mumbo excited, despite the circumstances, it was combination locks. 

Mumbo had to hold himself back from just running right straight up to it and digging into the wall to observe the kind of redstone used. Instead, he let out a large, but quiet, sigh, clenching his hands behind his back.

Doc was the first to approach the door and he flipped some of the levers, causing the iron door to swing open with a small creak. Not menacing at all, no, definitely not.

They walked through into a wide space, there were blinding lights on the ceiling and rows upon rows of glass rooms. At least, that’s what they looked like. The spaces were blank except for another door within each room, which Mumbo guessed was a bathroom of some kind. 

With a small, almost silent gulp, Mumbo averted his gaze from the rooms over to where Doc and Scar now stood in front and facing towards them. 

“These are containment rooms,” Doc started, his gruff voice echoing in the empty space, “you will be here for tonight, and tonight alone.” His voice had a softness to it, there was no hard edge like there usually was, especially when he was being serious. To anyone who didn’t know the creeper man, he was intimidating, scary, even. Those who know him, though, are aware of the fact that he’s really just a big goofball. 

Mumbo looked up from where he’d been gazing at the many rooms, making eye contact with the slightly taller hermit. What he saw there shocked him, it was a soft, caring look, not at all like the rough hermit that had dragged him from the safety of Stress’s castle. 

Even if this situation was crazy, even if it was awful to think that others could view him as dangerous, especially Doc, he understood that it came from a good place. It didn’t mean he had to like it, but he could understand it.

“Wait, you two are putting him in- in a box?” Stress piped up, a hint of anger under all the nervousness in her voice. 

Scar turned his gaze away from where it’d been staring off into the distance onto the ice queen, giving a curt nod. “Yes, it’s just for tonight, though!” She didn’t seem to be thrilled about the answer, but let it go, looking to Mumbo for reassurance that he was okay with it. He nodded at the ice queen, and she fully relented, her shoulders relaxing. 

Mumbo hadn’t noticed just how stressed and tired she looked until she let all the tension in her body wash away, he felt bad for doing that to her. In hope of comforting her, he put a supportive hand on her shoulder, giving it a small squeeze.

“I’ll be alright, I’m in good hands,” he murmured lowly, forcing his mouth into a small smile. He was anything but okay with this, but he’d endure it. 

“Let’s get you settled in, Mumbo.” Doc broke up their moment, his deeper tone returning. He looked over his shoulder at the hermit before turning back to Stress, holding out his arms for a hug. She leaped into his arms and practically melted, making Mumbo chuckle. The two held each other tightly to one another before Stress leaned back a bit too whisper in his ear.

“I’ll be back.” She exited the embrace and looked him in the eyes, giving a wink. He sent her a look of confusion, tilting his head to the side a bit. Stress just chuckled at him in turn, looking over his shoulder to wave to Doc and Scar who had been standing awkwardly behind them. “See you guys around!”

With that she exited the room, leaving Mumbo alone with the two creators of Area 77. 

The silence stretched throughout the room for a few moments, none of them immediately moving. Doc, to break the silence, cleared his throat.

“I’ll take you to the room you’ll be in tonight,” Doc said, giving Mumbo a brief smile. He just nodded in return and went to follow him as he led the way. Turns out they didn’t have far to go as Doc just opened the iron door to the first room on their left. _That makes sense, the rest of them are empty._

 _Empty, except for this one, now_ , he thought bitterly, looking at his containment cell. “Cell” may be a harsh word but he felt like it fit. 

Doc motioned for him to enter it and he did, he took his time, though, observing the layout of the area before actually entering the small space. It was maybe ten by ten feet or so, with blank white, concrete walls and a gray carpeted floor. In the back left there was a white bed with sheets that looked like they’d never been touched and a door on the right. A quick look behind it confirmed it was indeed a bathroom. 

He stood in the middle of the space with his hands on his hips. In all honesty, it wasn’t too bad, and he’d only be here for one night according to Doc and Scar, he’s been in worse places. 

As he sat on the bed he comfortably noted the softness of the blankets and plushness of the mattress. Yeah, he’d be fine here. He bounced on the bed a bit when he heard a click sound from overhead like something had been turned on. He looked up to see what looked to be a speaker, and then he heard Scar’s booming voice come through it.

“Looking nice and cozy in there! How is it?” Mumbo loved the terraformer, he really did, but his voice was just too _loud_. He shut his eyes as his hands slapped over his throbbing ears, hunching in on himself as if to protect the body from the intrusive noise.

Another click sounded from overhead, it was activated again. 

Mumbo pressed his hands to his ears harder than before, bracing himself for another crashing wave of noise. 

It didn’t come.

In fact, he could barely hear the noise coming from it with his hands where they were… so he slowly let them off.

Doc’s voice greeted him, and the sound coming from the speaker overhead was much better, nowhere near as loud. Mumbo then let out a sigh of relief at that, his hands coming to rest at his sides. 

“You okay, Mumbo? We turned the sound down since it seemed to have been too loud for you,” Doc’s thick German accent sounded from the loudspeaker. “Sorry, man, we checked the sound beforehand and Scar said it was good.” Mumbo heard Scar let out a squawk at that, which Mumbo could just barely catch through the layers of thick glass.

Scar’s voice could be heard next. 

“I _did_ check it and it was fine! The volume was totally normal!” Scar ranted, looking between Doc and Mumbo frantically. Doc sent the builder an amused look before switching so his gaze was on Mumbo. His right eye squinted as he observed the redstoner, seemingly looking for something he couldn’t place.

“Mumbo… I’m going to do a quick little experiment, alright?” Doc asked him, a hand scratching his stubble. With a timid nod, he sat back on his white bed, pulling his knees up to his chest as he awaited Doc’s instructions. 

The mic Doc had been holding to talk through the speaker was set down on a nearby ledge, and he gave Mumbo one last squinted stare before opening his mouth to speak.

“By chance, Mumbo, can you hear me right now?” The hermit in question had to strain his ears a bit to make sure he was catching the words, but once they processed in his mind he gave an answering nod. “Incredible.” The creeper man explained no further in his comments as he moved farther away from the glass, taking about three steps back. “How about now?” Another nod, though umbo noted that it was incredibly hard to really hear him at this point. Another few steps and when he talked Mumbo just heard jumbled madness, so he shook his head. 

When Doc reached the glass again he didn’t bother picking up the mic this time to talk.

“I think your hearing has amplified, maybe equivalent to a domesticated wolf’s hearing,” Doc noted, bringing out a small notepad from his torn lab coat pocket, scribbling a few things down on the paper. 

“That’s so cool!” Scar cut in, “so you can hear me right now loud and clear?” 

“So so,” Mumbo replied, making a gesture of similar meaning with his hand, “you’re pretty muffled, but I can still understand what you’re saying pretty well.” It seemed like Scar was satisfied with his response, turning his attention to the notepad Doc held. 

“Well, we will let you sleep, Mumbo,” the creeper man said, finally putting away his little notepad and pen, “tomorrow we’ll conduct some experiments to see what’s changed.” With no further word, no goodbye, Doc grabbed Scar’s forearm and moved him so that he would lead the way, following close behind the other hermit. 

So then there was one.

The newfound silence unsettled Mumbo, without the shuffling of other people, animals, or any natural sound really since the glass blocked most of it, he was left to sit with his thoughts. 

Doc’s last few words before he and Scar dispersed left him anxious. 

_Experiments? What kind of experiments? What’re they going to do? See if I’m dangerous?_

Mumbo couldn’t help the small puff of air that escaped his lips.

Dangerous. It was now his new least favorite word if he had had a previous one. He couldn’t believe himself to be something that the other hermits should fear, but at the same time, the thought wouldn’t stop crossing his mind. 

Would it be better if he were to just run? To hide away until he found a way to fix his condition? _Would he ever find one?_

He forced himself to take a few deep breaths and steady himself, calming the shaking he hadn’t noticed had started. _You’ll be fine, it’ll be okay_ , he just had to keep telling himself that.

Lying on his side to bring up the white covers of the bed, he nuzzled his face into the pillow for comfort, barely noticing when a few stray tears seeped into the pillowcase.

Tomorrow, they’d start.


	8. Experiments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;)

_Tap, tap, tap._

He stirred on his bed, his eyes shut tightly against the blinding lights they kept on overnight. 

_Tap, tap, tap._

The repetitive noise made him groan and put a pillow over his head. Was silence too much to ask for? Apparently yes, as the tapping continued.

_Tap! Tap! Tap!_

This time, Mumbo put his hands over his ears, annoyance making his face scrunch up as he attempted to block out the noise. It was too loud in the otherwise silent environment he was in, and he wanted more sleep. Despite knowing the experiments were going to start today, he didn’t want to get up just yet. 

_Tap! Tap! Tap!_

“You guys know he can hear you if you just talk, right?” Doc’s thick accent reached his ears through the glass and confusion filled him. Who was he talking to?

Mumbo sat himself up, not bothering to move the pillow and letting it fall to the floor. Blurry vision slowly cleared to reveal not two but four people standing behind the glass wall. There were Doc and Scar on the right, then on the left was...

“Hey, Mumbo!”

Iskall and Grian stood beside the two Area 77 owners, both with matching smiles on their faces. It took a lot of resistance to keep any building tears to stay in his eyes. 

In one swift movement, he threw back the blanket on the bed and touched down on the floor, running over the short distance to come up to the glass. Iskall, Grian, and Scar all flinched back at the sudden movement; Doc stayed still. They quickly came back to the window, though, making him not feel quite as bad for startling them. 

“You guys are here!” Mumbo said to the two happily, putting his hands upon the glass. Of all things, he had not expected _this!_

He was vaguely aware of an echo of his own voice on the other side of the glass. He looked up to see a speaker that matched his own on the other side where they were and frowned a bit at it. It’d be preferable to not hear his own voice, but he would live. 

It seemed like Doc and Scar had caught onto his subtle confusion, and Doc simply spoke directly to him. 

“Do you hear yourself, Mumbo?” Iskall and Grian looked to the talking hermit in uncertainty, glancing at the redstoner for answers. 

Mumbo ignored the two for the moment and gave Doc a nod. In response, Doc looked to Scar who smiled kindly. The terraformer turned to some buttons and sliders near their microphone, messing with the controls before looking at Mumbo.

“Talk for us real quick?” 

“Uh- sure, I can do that, um...” He stuttered, his hands wringing together. The vampire gave a small, awkward laugh and cleared his throat. Only then had he noticed that he could no longer hear himself. For confirmation, Mumbo looked to Scar and tilted his head, pointing to the speaker on their side in silent question. 

“Yep! I turned the sound down for you,” Scar answered, a beaming smile taking place on his features. Grian, who had been looking on at the exchange in silent confusion, spoke to Mumbo. 

“Wait, why did the sound have to be turned down?” The builder then turned to face Doc and Scar, crossing his arms. Mumbo figured, if Grian was an actual bird, his feathers would be all puffed up right now. It was rather endearing how protective of him the other seemed to be. 

“I could hear myself,” Mumbo supplied for the two confused hermits, “so they turned the sound down so I wouldn’t have to.” Understanding showed on Grian and Iskall’s faces before Iskall’s then morphed into one of bewilderment.

“There’s a glass wall between us though!” To exaggerate his already baffled movements, he threw his hands up and gestured to the glass wall. 

Mumbo’s shoulders went up to his ears, which, if it was even possible, were flushed a deep red from embarrassment. He had forgotten that his two friends weren’t aware of his enhanced hearing, seeing as he had never told them. 

Don’t get him wrong, he loved having them here, and he was very touched that they had come here just to see him, but he didn’t want them to see just how physically different he was now. Mumbo already had to deal with Scar and Doc being aware of his changes, and he’d have to remind himself to thank them for letting his Sahara members visit him, so he didn’t want more hermits to see. Still… it’d be nice to have them by his side for the “experiments” Doc has planned for him. 

“His hearing is more sensitive,” Doc said simply to answer the Swede’s question.   
“His hearing is more sensitive,” Doc said simply to answer the Swede’s question. Scar came from around the corner, startling Mumbo as he had never been aware of the hermit’s absence. 

“Yup! That’s why we don’t have our mic on for the speaker in his room,” Scar said with a chipper tone, pointing to Mumbo’s own speaker, “he found the sound to be too loud last night, and he can hear us through this glass anyways.” When Scar finished his explanation Grian and Iskall were nodding thoughtfully, turning to look at the aforementioned vampire. 

“That’s so cool, dude!” Iskall said, putting his hands back onto the glass that separated them. Actually, then, he glared at it, seemingly mad with the barrier, “can he come out now?” 

It looked like Doc was about to protest but Scar jumped in, keeping up his ever-bright smile.

“Sure!” With one press of a button near the iron door, it swung open with a quiet creak, giving Mumbo access to the hallway.

He took careful, hesitant steps into the open space, giving a small smile to his beaming friends. They apparently wanted to waste no time in crowding him, and before he knew it he was tackled in a hug by his friends. A surprised laugh escaped Mumbo, and he brought his arms, which had been hanging useless at his sides, up to embrace the two Sahara members. 

The three stood there for a few more moments before separating slowly, all wearing matching happy grins. If only the moment had lasted longer before Doc interrupted the moment.

“Are you ready for the day, Mumbo?” There was nothing sinister in his tone, but it still made shivers crawl up his spine. He had no idea what was in store for him, and he didn’t know if he wanted to be told. Doc put his hand on one of his shoulders, making his voice just a tad softer so he’d be the only one to hear it, “don’t worry Mumbo, we won’t push you in any of these, okay?” Mumbo gave him a nod, and the cyborg responded in kind. 

“I’m assuming you guys will be tagging along?” Doc continued, gesturing between Iskall and Grian.

“You bet!” Grian answered for the two, grabbing both Iskall and Doc’s hands as he passed by them, pulling them along to follow where Scar was leading Mumbo to the first area.

The redstoner smirked as he heard Grian’s bell-like laughter mix with Iskall’s boisterous ones and Doc’s grumbles. 

He felt a tug on his shirt and looked down and to his left where Scar was walking beside him, raising an inquisitive brow at the shorter hermit. The terraformer rearranged his hat with a hand before wordlessly pulling out clothes. At first, they just looked like typical garments, but as Mumbo looked closer he recognized the familiar tailoring of his suits, along with a traditional red tie. Scar talking snapped him out of his daze.

“I figured you’d want some actual clothes instead of those chicken pajamas,” Scar said with a quiet chuckle. 

“I- yeah, thank you so much, Scar,” Mumbo replied, his gaze snapping back to the clothes in hand. He ran a thumb over the fabric, his smile growing even wider. Maybe it was weird how much he had missed his suit, but just the sight of it in his hands made him incredibly gleeful. 

“It was no problem,” Scar said in turn, his voice carrying a happy, content pitch to it. The two of them didn’t share any more words as they continued to walk. They were content to listen to the trio behind them as they were rather entertaining. 

“So you’re saying you could give me bird wings?” Of course, Grian would ask that.

“I never said-,” Oh, poor Doc.

“What about upgrading my eye?” Iskall chipped in also, though mainly to mess with the cyborg hermit more than genuinely asking. 

Mumbo and Scar shared a look before laughing quietly to themselves, continuing on their way and not pausing despite Doc’s desperate look at them for help. 

At one point they paused to let Mumbo put on his suit but then continued down the wide halls.

Finally, they reached a pair of tall doors, a less than complicated lock used to open it up. For context, it was just a lever, not exactly the best technology.

As the iron doors opened, Mumbo noted those were a theme with this place, a large room was shown to them. It looked a bit like a laboratory, but with a bit more open space. There was a variety of brewing stands and some blast furnaces here and there, though they looked to be mainly for decoration. 

His little tag-along friends seemed to love the place as Grian had bounded up to Scar spewing builder questions, and Iskall asking Doc similar things about the architecture and lab tech. Though Mumbo understood where their excitement came from, it was a pretty good looking room. 

“Okay, Mumbo,” Doc spoke out to him, effectively cutting off Iskall’s never-ending rant about… something. “We’re going to start with a hearing test, we didn’t really get a fully effective test last night.”

_Okay, sounds simple enough, right?_ He gave him a thumbs-up, hoping the gesture didn’t look as stiff as it felt. Why was he so nervous? Doc had said it himself that there was nothing to worry about! It was a feeling he couldn’t shake, a pit in his chest that made his lungs feel small. 

Iskall had walked up to him while his mind had been running around in circles, dragging him out of it only when he wrapped an arm around his shoulders. 

“Don’t worry, Mumbo, they won’t do anything to you; plus, Grian and I will be right there with you,” the Swede reassured him, giving a gentle squeeze to his arm. Mumbo shot him an unsure look, but sighed and leaned into the comforting hold, mumbling a barely audible, “okay.”

“Alright, Mumbo! This one will be pretty simple, maybe even a bit boring,” Scar yelled from across the room. Around him was a strip marked with measurements across the entire length of the room, fully from one end to another. “We’ll have you stand on this end,” he pointed to the wall on the left, “and we’ll have a noise machine at the other end.”

Doc picked up the explanation from there.

“This machine will send out a quick noise at whatever volume we set it at,” he started, putting his hands on his hips, “every meter we will start the volume from zero until you can hear it, got it?” It felt like his head was going to spin from all the information, as straightforward as it sounded. 

Grian stole a glance at him with furrowed brows, looking between the experiment and where he stood. A light lit up in his eyes and he jumped in place with a small hop, drawing the attention of all who stood in the room.

“How about I join the experiment!” Doc and Scar gave him a blank look, looking from Grian to each other, then back to the builder.

“What?” Scar broke the silence, asking for some clarity of Grian’s statement.

“Well, you need a control in your experiment, right?” Grian posed the question, batting his eyelids in feign innocence. Regardless of his theatrics, it appeared like they were okay with it.

“Alright alright, but don’t make a peep, Grian, we need this test to be as accurate as possible,” Doc said seriously, pointing a finger at him in an only slightly-joking manner. 

Mumbo was basically dragged across the room by one enthusiastic Grian to where they were told to stand. They stood side by side and waited for Doc and Scar to get set up, Iskall joining them to look at the machine they were using.

“A mini note block with redstone integrated with it to make a noise machine… brilliant!” Iskall laughed, peering at the contraption from all sides. Scar shooed him away though, and he stood back with a giggle. 

“Ready, guys?” Scar called out, to which Grian answered for them.

“All ready!”

“Okay, machine starting… now!” 

At first, no sound was heard, but only for a few seconds. It had caught him off guard, but very suddenly he heard a tell-tale _“beep!”_

“I heard it!” Mumbo yelled to them, making Doc stop from where he had been turning up the volume bit by bit. “Just now, I mean,” he clarified, hoping it’d give the cyborg more accurate readings. Doc straightened up from his hunch over the controls, jotting down his findings on a side piece of paper before beckoning them forward.

Meanwhile, as he moved forward to the next marker, he noticed Grian hadn’t followed him. Looking behind him in confusion he found Grian staring at him with an odd look, and he tensed, suddenly unsure. _Why is he looking at me like that?_

_“How?!”_ Mumbo winced at the builder’s high pitched screech, making a motion to tell him to quiet down a bit. Grian mumbled an apology, walking up to him, “that just seemed so soon!” He gave the shorter a shrug in response, he couldn’t really explain it, that’s part of the reason the experiments were happening in the first place. 

“You guys all good?” The two heard Iskall call from the other side of the room.

“We’re good!” Mumbo replied, cupping his hands around his mouth for more volume. 

Doc shot them a look that said, “you guys better get ready to continue soon.” Not wanting to upset the cyborg, he patted Grian’s shoulder, trying to silently communicate that the smaller could ask all the questions he’d want to later.

It got some sort of message across that placated him, and Grian relented from his questioning, taking his place next to the redstoner. 

The five of them continued the testing until Mumbo was right in front of the machine, and they concluded the experiment. Scar was right, it was pretty boring, but at the same time, that relieved him. 

“Looks like we’ve got all the information we needed with this experiment,” Scar concluded, looking over Doc’s shoulder at the numbers the cyborg had written down. “You’re hearing has heightened by quite a large amount,” he continued, “so you’re hearing is similar to that of a wolf on steroids.” Mumbo listened intently while Iskall and Grian snickered behind him. The reds toner sent them a look over his shoulder and they quieted. 

“We’ve got time for one more today, then you’ll be off the hook.” Doc had looked up from his notes, shuffling the papers so they were held neatly in his hands. “We’ll continue with more tomorrow, sound good?” He gave the creeper man a determined nod. However, Scar turned to give Doc a look, one that Mumbo couldn’t decipher. 

The two seemed to have a silent stare-off before the terraformer stepped away, a sigh escaping his lips. _Well, that can’t be good…_

“So… what is the next experiment for today, lads?” Mumbo asked almost timidly, bringing a hand up to twiddle a finger around his mustache. It was in desperate need of grooming, but he’d worry about that later. 

Scar opened his mouth to answer him, but Doc put his metal arm on the others shoulder, a way of silently telling him he’d answer the question. 

“Mumbo, we’ve been meaning to ask you,” he started, staring down at the redstoner, “you haven’t eaten since we’ve brought you here, nor have you asked about food. What do you eat?” The statement left Mumbo frozen, his mouth slightly agape. He should’ve seen it coming sooner or later, but the suddenness of it caught him severely off guard. 

Doc continued to stand there in front of him, not breaking any sort of eye contact despite Mumbo’s best efforts to avoid the cyborg’s eyes. _If looks could kill…_

His mouth opened and closed, unsure of how to respond to the rather forward question. He felt hands come to rest on his shoulders and shrunk beneath them, grateful as they grounded him a bit more in reality. The redstoner had never felt so small before, cornered like a chicken trying to escape a fox. 

Clearing his throat, he opened his mouth once more to attempt an answer.

“I-,” he tried, tugging on his undershirt, “well, my diet has certainly, er, changed.” In his attempt to hopefully dodge around the question, he basically admitted his change in taste. Doc seemed to have noticed that he skipped around an actual answer and raised an eyebrow at him, urging him to continue. Scar, on the other hand, just cocked his head to one side as he listened. 

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly to prepare himself for what he’d have to admit. He just hoped they’d let him finish his statement before accusing him. 

“I drink blood now,” he breathed out, then held up a hand when Doc moved to talk, “for the first few days I drank blood from chickens, but… I drank blood from Stress.” Gasps were heard from all the hermits around him, and it took all he had in him not to recoil at the noise. He rushed to clarify.

“She offered! I told her she didn’t have to, but she thought it’d be for the best so that I could know if my stomach would keep the blood,” he stammered out, his hands in a placating gesture in front of him, palms facing the two Area 77 hermits. He had also noticed that Iskall and Grian had removed their hands from his shoulders and he tried not to whine at that. 

“That’s right, I had forgotten you had thrown up that apple I gave you,” Iskall said from behind him, “but is she okay? Has anyone heard from her recently?” All of them shook their heads. 

It was then Scar who spoke. 

“No, she hasn’t messaged recently, but she came with Mumbo when we… escorted him from her castle last night. She looked fine then.” Scar fiddled with the brim of his hat in thought, his lips pursed. 

“Wait,” Doc cut in, “you can’t consume normal food now?” Mumbo nodded his head, his eyes narrowing at the cyborg in curiosity. 

“It’s true, he puked his guts out after he took one bite of an apple,” Grian added on, a small, amused smile on his face, “so I think it’s safe to assume that anything other than blood is off the table.” The builder’s arm returned to his shoulder, shaking him lightly from side to side. “Isn’t that right, you spoon?” 

“I suppose so,” Mumbo replied with a nervous snicker.

Doc walked forward until he stood just barely a foot away from him, leaning down a bit so their faces were closer together. In unsettlement, he leaned away from the hermit, his eyes dancing across the cyborg’s face, searching for any sort of malice. Nothing could be seen in his face, though.

Wordlessly, Doc’s flesh hand came up to his face, prodding his mouth open. Everyone was dead silent in the room as the exchange continued, the only sound being Mumbo’s uneven breaths. The hermit’s motions weren’t harsh, far from it, they were gentle and exploring more than anything, but it unnerved him. 

Doc’s thumb came to prod at his sharper canines, pushing on them with the smallest bit of pressure. Mumbo let him do as he pleased, despite his raging urge to pull away. The other then took the pad of his thumb and pressed against the tip of one of his fangs, flinching away when it cut him. 

Just a singular drop of blood made it to Mumbo’s tongue but it was enough for him to get a taste. Even though he’d just eaten yesterday, and a good amount at that, he found himself taking a step towards Doc, whose thumb was still oozing blood. The smell of it was intoxicating, guiding him to keep going towards it, to drink more, _more, more!_

A hand tugging him back made him snap out of whatever daze he was in. The sight in front of him was enough to make his breath hitch. 

Scar stood in front of Doc protectively, his eyes wide with… fear? The cyborg behind him was still clutching his thumb close to him, face as stony as ever, not an ounce of emotion showing through. To Mumbo’s right was Grian whose hands were hovering just above his arm, as if he was ready to pull him away. On his other side stood Iskall, the one who had yanked him back, he figured, as the man had a tight grip on his arm. 

He swallowed with an audible gulp, trying to slow his ever-quickening breaths. 

“I- I’m so sorry, I didn’t-,” the vampire stuttered, his hand coming to cover his mouth, “I didn’t mean to.” It didn’t feel like enough of an apology, but he refused to try and talk more, assuming it could just make his situation worse. 

“We’re done for today.” Doc’s voice rang out in the room, finality in his tone. He felt Iskall’s grip tighten even more on him as the cyborg straightened up, looking down at them. “I’ve gotten what I needed for now. Scar,” the terraformer peered at his partner, “you can take him back to the room.”

Scar nodded to him, turning to gaze solemnly at Mumbo, whose eyes couldn’t have gotten any wider. 

_Dangerous._

“Let’s go, Mumbo.” Scar held out his hand to him, his eyes soft. He reached out shakily to take it, to accept his fate, when Iskall pulled him to his chest, holding him defensively. “Iskall, he needs to come with me,” the Swede didn’t budge, eyeing the fellow hermit, “I promise he’ll be okay.” 

Iskall turned his eyes from Scar to Mumbo, looking at him desperately for guidance. The other clearly didn’t want his friend to be put back in that room, but he wasn’t going to stop Mumbo from going there if he wanted to. 

Mumbo never took his eyes off Scar and reached out to take his hand again, albeit hesitantly. The redstoner felt Iskall’s grip loosen and allow him to fully stand by himself. Tears stung the corner of his eyes yet he refused to let them fall in front of the others, in front of his friends.

_Dangerous!_

He wanted to keep them safe, and Doc’s suspicions were just proven to be true. He was _dangerous_. They wouldn’t be safe with him running around freely, not until he understood himself better, and had better control of his new, foreign instincts. 

Silently, he let Scar lead him out of the room, out of sight from the other hermits. He was aware of Grian and Iskall’s eyes on his back as the doors shut behind them. 

The two walked down the halls, not a word passing between them. 

It was only when Mumbo was back in that white room, sitting on his bed with his head in his hands, that he heard Scar speak.

“Goodnight, Mumbo.” There was a shuffling noise, and he lifted his head to see Scar no longer in front of the glass, and a glass of what he assumed to be blood from an animal at the front of the room. 

He didn’t want it, he didn’t want to even look at it. 

Eventually, the lights overhead turned off, and any buzzing noise from machinery in the building went silent. Area 77 was closed for the night, and right on schedule. At least he wouldn’t have blinding lights radiating into his eyes the moment he opened them like they did the previous night.

Mumbo pulled the covers over his head, making none of him visible to anyone who could possibly come by to see him. He wanted to be left alone.

He wanted to be back home, at his base, wanted to hear the ocean waves from his greenhouse at night. He wanted to hear the clucks of the chickens that “Poultry Man” left at his base. He wanted to just have fun with his friends, without worrying about their blood. 

Sleep started to take him, and he let it. With a singular, heavy sigh, he fully shut his eyes and welcomed the darkness…

When he woke to the feeling of being shaken awake by icy hands, cracking open his eyes to a blurry figure with a pink sweater, he let it happen. The person picked him up, and he fell asleep once more, comforted by the feeling of being supported in their arms.

Sirens were the last thing he heard as everything went black.


	9. Waking Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am. SO SORRY for not updating for so long!! There was a bunch of things happening in my area with Corona and school closings and I just felt so unmotivated to try and get anything done. I still am not feeling terribly motivated but I managed to crank out this 4,500-word monstrosity, and hope you enjoy!

A groan slipped past his lips as he came to. Light from what he assumed to be late morning sun rays bounced off the walls of the room he resided in, shining in his eyes. He used his hand to try and block some of the intrusive light, opening his eyes in a barely-there squint. 

The next thing to come to him was the feeling of a hard surface supporting his, well, everything. It was a smooth tabletop, apparently, and cool to the touch despite the sun beating down heavily into the room. 

Mumbo shuffled somewhat awkwardly to reposition himself, his joints and bones aching in protest against the movement. If he had to guess, he had been placed onto the table to sleep there for the night, speaking of which… 

He’d been taken from Area 77 late in the night. All he had were fuzzy memories of the incident, the most prominent being that of someone carrying him as sirens blared through the halls. Other than a few bits and pieces of recollection, nothing. 

As he sat there, stiff on the white table-top, a quick sharp knocks from behind him broke him out of his stupor, causing his head to whip around so fast he saw black dots at the edges of his vision. 

“You’re awake!” As his vision cleared, Mumbo could make out the familiar hermit standing in front of him, though he wasn’t in his usual attire. With his vision cleared he could now make out the familiar room he’d been set in. _The Sahara meeting room_. Grian sauntered up to where he could sit in his monster of a chair and beamed at Mumbo, “we thought you’d never wake up you silly goose!”

The vampire took a moment to eye his companion up and down, cocking his head to one side in befuddlement, blinking at him slowly. Grian must’ve understood his confusion and shot him a toothy grin.

In place of the builder’s typical red sweater, he wore a t-shirt of similar color, a necklace of colorful feathers resting on his chest from where it was loosely strapped around the back of his neck. To complete the look, whereupon his head was a beautifully made flower crown. 

The blonde hermit leaned his head forward onto his hands, elbows resting against the smooth table, “Hippie Grian has made another appearance! Stress couldn’t have gotten you out of that prison without the help of their hippie neighbors.”

Mumbo cracked a small smile at that, a breath of amused disbelief escaping from between his parted lips. 

The two chuckled together briefly before the redstoner shot up straight, a furrow in his brow.

“Wait,” he started, “you- you helped with busting me out of there?” He finished, incredulous. Grian just raised a brow at his seemingly obvious question. Silently, the builder beckoned him over with a finger, to which Mumbo confusedly inched forwards, leaning down a bit so they were closer in eye-level… only to be flicked on the forehead. 

“Wha- ow! Grian, why-,” Mumbo sputtered, rubbing his hand across the abused spot. His friend looked mighty amused with himself, his high-pitched giggles filling the room. 

“Of course we broke you out of there, man,” a new voice piped from just outside the opening in the wall. Leaning to one side to where Mumbo had a clear view of the door, he saw none other but Ren standing in the doorframe, his arms crossed but not in an unfriendly manner. 

The hermit pushed off of the door to bound over in a way that could only be called a skip. His attire was similar to Grian’s, only slightly altered. A similar flower crown was wrapped delicately around his head, and instead of the familiar sunglasses, he wore normal ones. 

Ren approached the two and set his arms down on the table, turning his gaze upon Mumbo and scratching his stubble with a smile, “How’re you feeling?” The hermit in question held a thumbs-up in response to the question, eyeing his friends in curiosity.

_They both worked to get me out of there, why, though_? He tried to wrack his brain for answers, ignoring the pain that throbbed in his temples. His red-toned hands came up to massage his head, eyes sliding shut as a sigh escaped him. _These two…_

“Let me get this straight,” Mumbo said, “you two, and Stress, all worked together to break me out of our friends’ building, because?…” He purposefully left the ending a question in hopes to wring out an answer. Ren and Grian simply glanced at each other, then back at him, mirrored expressions of bewilderment adorning their features. 

“What do you mean ‘because?’,” Grian replied, his tone almost that of a mother scolding their child, “they were going to do experiments on you!” 

“Well, yes, but-,”

Grian interrupted him.

“Who only knows what they could’ve done! I know they wouldn’t do anything on purpose but just look at what happened with _Doc_ ,” Grian stressed, his hands going this and that way to exaggerate his words.

Despite his best efforts not to, Mumbo flinched at the reminder of his encounter with the cyborg. Ren must’ve noticed because the next thing he knew the hermit was sitting on the table beside him, a comforting arm wrapped around his shoulders. The hermit then spoke. 

“Yeah, man. From what I heard that was _Doc’s_ mistake, not yours. He pushed too far without your asking, dude,” Ren reassured, his voice low and consoling, making his accent just a bit thicker. For that, he provided the hermit with a weak smile as an attempt to show his gratitude. He was unsure if the message got across, due to Ren’s unchanging features, but it was something nonetheless. 

The three of them sat for a minute or two in silence, all of them appearing to be lost in faraway thoughts. It was a tad awkward, Mumbo supposed, but the silence was a bit nice. After all, it wasn’t completely quiet due to his enhanced hearing abilities. The vampire could easily pick out his companions’ heartbeats, different but each unique. He could hear their breaths and the movement of their clothes as they shifted even minutely. It was… grounding, in a way. 

Had it not been for his thoughts spinning around in his head, he could have let the silence stretch forever. Alas, a specific thought took him by surprise, and halted anything and everything else. 

“Guys, won’t Doc and Scar be _looking_ for me?”

Mumbo had sat up ramrod straight, apparently, he had been somewhat leaning on Ren, and every muscle in him tensed, not wanting to hear the honest answer, though they all knew it. At his sudden movement, Ren frowned at him, looking more like a puppy than anything else, and began to rummage through his bag wordlessly. Grian filled in the silence while he did so.

“Well, we would assume- yes,” Grian answered, his eyes widening as he took in Mumbo’s frightened look and held out his hands in a placating gesture. “That doesn’t mean they will! Right, Ren?” The builder returned his gaze to the hermit hopefully, his eyes practically screaming, “help me out here!”

Ren had found whatever it was he was looking for, and swiveled his head to look at Grian, a wide smile appearing on his face.

“Oh. Yes! Hopefully, they’ve taken our hint,” he supplied giddily, taking out a flower crown from his bag, _so that was what he’d been looking for_ , and placing it gently on Mumbo’s head. The redstoner flushed slightly in surprise, taking a hand to lightly feel the flower crown adorning his hair. 

Both Grian and Ren went, “Aww” in unison, only making his crimson blush deeper. 

The flowers were a lily-white and contrasted his hair wonderfully, and in all honesty, Mumbo rather liked the color. It took away from all the red he had started to become accustomed to. He cleared his throat, mumbling a small, “Thanks” to Ren. The hermit beamed back at him, bringing his hands together in a quiet clap.

“It’s no problem, Mumbo Jumbo, you’re one of us now! A true hippie,” Ren supplied, his wide smile evening out to more of a cheeky grin. It was a look that Mumbo expected more from Grian than the former, but in the end, it isn’t the weirdest sight he’s seen recently. 

The three hermits sat for a while longer, idle chat being exchanged between them. Their conversations were about nothing in particular, the topics ranging from being utterly ridiculous to what sort of projects they had in mind for the upcoming season. 

If Mumbo hadn’t been laughing at something Ren had said, he maybe would’ve been able to catch the words sooner. 

_“-he knows?”_

_“He does, but I don’t think to the extent that we do, unfortunately.”_

_“Well we have to let him know then-“_

_“No! We’re not going there, not yet. If things get out of hand…”_

A brief moment of silence, and what must’ve been a silent agreement. 

The hushed whispers didn’t let Mumbo in on who it had been talking, just the words exchanged between the two people. He wouldn’t have figured out the mysterious people at all, if they hadn’t just come around the corner, heading straight towards them.

Entering the room with all the flare one could muster was none other than Iskall, and- _what is he wearing?!_

While Mumbo sat in silent shock, mouth gaping wide enough for his pointy canines to be in perfect view, Ren and Grian collapsed into hysteria, laughing so hard there were tears in the corners of their eyes. A second person emerged behind from Iskall, a familiar pink sweater, Mumbo instantly recognized the hermit to be Stress, and she too was giggling. 

Mumbo let out what could’ve been counted as an amused huff, but was more of a relieved breath of air than anything. The two mystery hermits being Iskall and Stress calmed his fears but not his suspicions. Their private conversation, or what they presumed to be private, only raised more questions in the vampire’s brain and left an unsettled feeling in his gut. He tried to push those feelings aside, they were his friends! They wouldn’t let anything happen to him if they could help it. 

As his thoughts settled, for now, he came back to the present to find Ren and Grian still in hysterics and Iskall lapping up the attention. So, nothing too outlandish. 

“Er- Iskall, pardon for asking, but what on Earth are you wearing, mate?” Mumbo spoke up, hoping to be heard over his cackling peers. 

“I’m in the hippie club!” Was Iskall’s reply, his own laugh filling the room. 

Adorning the Swede was… certainly an interesting outfit. He had a typical flower crown atop his head, but his hair was widely different. In place of his usual cut was a long wig reaching past his shoulders, moving Mumbo’s eyes down to the rest of his outfit. His gaze traveled over his oversized tie-dye shirt with not-even-close-to-matching floral pants that reached right up to his sandals, completing the absolute monstrosity of a hippie outfit. 

“I think you broke them, Iskall!” Stress piped up from beside him, covering her chuckles with her hand. Actually, now that he was getting a good look at her, she looked a little different as well, although not as drastically as her counterpart. 

The only difference in her attire was the flower crown, a mix of purple, pink, and white flowers similarly looking to Mumbo’s own. 

“We’re- we’re good,” Ren coughed out over his laughter, placing a single hand on his chest as he attempted to even out his breathing. 

Iskall let out a short laugh at that, reaching up to carefully remove the wig. 

“I didn’t think it’d get you dudes that messed up,” the Swede mused, readjusting the flower crown he decided to keep in place on his head. “Can’t say it wasn’t amusing, though.”

Grian merely waved him off as a reply, still trying to even out his breathing. For a split second, nothing but their mingled breaths filled the room, but Mumbo wouldn’t settle in the silence right now.

“So, what brings you guys to Sahara?” Stress gave him an incredulous look at that.

“Ren messaged us that you were awake, and we were just shopping nearby waiting for you to wake up,” Stress explained, walking over to Mumbo’s chair at the table and plopping herself down in it. Iskall followed suit with his own chair. 

“Oh,” Mumbo said simply, looking down at where his hands sat in his lap. He took a moment to pick at his nails, giving himself something to mess with as the room was filled with silence once more. 

That seemed to be a reoccurring theme lately. 

It was in this moment that his stomach decided to let itself be heard, creating a low grumbling sound. Mumbo just ignored it, glaring down at his hands in mild frustration. 

Sure, he hadn’t eaten yesterday. _Except for that one drop from Doc_. That doesn’t mean he didn’t practically feast on his friend the day prior! His hunger almost liked to play with him, it felt like. One day he could have a chicken or two and be satisfied with just that. Other times he felt like he could drain a whole cow and still have an appetite. 

Two pale hands covered his own, handling them to loosen where he had, at some point, clenched them hard enough they were light pink at the knuckles. Looking up from his lap his eyes met the dark ones of Grian’s. The builder wore a gentle smile, his eyebrows slightly upturned. 

Mumbo’s gaze bounced over his friend’s face, lips pressing together into a thin line. His head had been in too many places to pay attention to the ever gnawing hunger until he had a moment to pause, to breathe. _I just want it to be gone._

It looked like everyone else at the table was seemingly aware of their silent exchange, if a bit one-sided, as they were all laughing and talking amongst themselves behind the two of them. 

Grian’s eyes stayed locked on his face for just a few moments more before he leaned back in his chair, eyes cast downward but left his hands on Mumbo’s. In the next second, the builder’s eyes lit up, and his gaze snapped towards Mumbo once more, a smile on his face. 

“I don’t know about you all, but I’m a bit peckish! Want to come grab something with me, Mumbo? Keep me company?” Grian spoke loud enough for the others to hear and look towards his way. 

While everyone was looking between the vampire and the builder, Grian’s eyes remained solely on him, almost asking a silent question that the other hermits wouldn’t know. Understanding clicked in, and he smiled just slightly at his friend, rising up from where he sat at the table. 

“Sounds good to me,” Mumbo replied, holding out his hand to Grian and lifting the smaller from the over-sized chair. 

“Grian, didn’t you just eat-,” Iskall’s voice cut in, looking quizzically between the two now standing. Grian, however, cut the Swede off with a wave of his hand.

“Like I said, just peckish! We’ll be back,” Grian announced with a tone of finality to it, looping elbows with the tall vampire next to him and pulling him towards the door. Mumbo followed without question, looking back somewhat apologetically to the hermits, now with all matching faces of confusion.

The two didn’t slow their fairly quick pace until they exited the building, stopping to stand at its wide entrance. 

Grian had let out a tiny breath, Mumbo guessed out of relief, that would’ve been too quiet for most to hear, but not for his newly enhanced ears. 

“Grian?” Mumbo started, nudging his friend’s side to get his attention, smiling when he got it, “er- thanks! For, uh, getting me out of there, I really appreciate it, man.” He hoped he sounded as genuine as he felt, despite his muttered excuse of a sentence. The smaller may not have been the slickest, but it was way better than what he could’ve ever tried to do. 

“It’s no problem! You looked uncomfortable, so it was easy to make an excuse if it got you out of there,” Grian replied softly, giving his arm a gentle squeeze. “Besides, I wouldn’t mind a bite of something, I’ve always got cravings for a sweet.” The builder cheekily added a mischievous grin to compliment his words, already pulling Mumbo along with him. The redstoner didn’t know where he was being led to, but he couldn’t find it in him to be all that worried, it was just Grian. 

In the end, Mumbo felt like he had discovered a few things. 

One, Grian is a very determined person when it came to sweets. Two, There are no sweets shops in the Shopping District. Finally, three, he was getting very, very _hungry_.

The pair had returned to Sahara’s storefront with empty hands and a pouting Grian. By this point it was getting closer and closer to sunset, casting a warm glow over the land. They sat a little ways away from the actual door to the store and instead on some of the grass around it, chatting away. 

“Hey, Grian, you happen to have an ender chest on you?” Grian looked at him with mild confusion, but blinked it away and nodded, setting one out on the ground. To that, Mumbo mumbled a quick, “thank you,” and rummaged through his things.

_Yes! There it is!_

Sending Grian a cheeky look over his shoulder, from his chest he slowly pulled his arms out to reveal… a cake. 

The squeal that left Grian’s mouth had Mumbo’s ears ringing, but he smiled nonetheless. 

“Mumbo! You spoon, of course you’d carry around a cake!” Grian playfully jabbed, beaming gratefully at the cake in Mumbo’s hands. The vampire held the sweet out to him which Grian readily accepted, already beginning to take chunks out of it. Mumbo couldn’t help but chuckle at the display.

“Glad you’re enjoying it, mate!” He commented, watching as the builder messily tore into the cake. Grian sent him a half-hearted glare before returning to it. 

As expected, the cake was gone within a few minutes, and a pleased Grian and a somewhat baffled Mumbo sat in peaceful silence as the sun continued to get lower in the sky. 

“Mumbo, have I ever told you just how amazing of a friend you are?” Grian lied down on the grass as he spoke, patting his now full stomach with a pleased grin. Mumbo barked out a laugh at that and scooted back to meet eyes with his friend. 

“Yeah, you’ve told me once or twice,” he replied with a grin of his own, earning himself a few giggles from the hermit. 

Grian messed with the grass by his hands, a contemplative look coming over his face. Mumbo decided to leave him be and simply watch the sunset, taking his own few blades of grass to fiddle with. 

Catching him off guard, Grian sat up next to him, looking him straight in the eye.

“Now I have to pay you back!” 

“What? It was a cake, Grian, you don’t have to pay me back.” The redstoner laughed lightly at the seriousness in the other’s voice. When Grian looked like he was going to protest, Mumbo just put a finger to his lips, effectively keeping him quiet. “You don’t have to pay me back.” At this the builder pouted, squirming away to get his mouth free. 

“I don’t mean with diamonds! I mean with food! An eye for an eye, you know?” At first glance, this would seem like a regular offer, one that Mumbo would have easily agreed to just a week ago. Now, things were different.

“Wha- no. I know what you’re suggesting, no,” He instantly refused, standing up a little quicker than he should have, swaying on his feet only to have Grian help steady him.

“Mumbo, I just ate! It’ll be fine! You did it with Stress, and I can tell you’re hungry.” It seemed like Grian was going to fight back, and Mumbo could already feel his resolve cracking as the hunger pushed its way to the front of his mind. 

“Grian, no, I-,” he paused, “I don’t _trust myself_.” The last part came out as a whisper as his voice broke on the words slightly. The builder reached out to hold his hands, he’s a rather touchy person, not that Mumbo minded, and continued to argue. 

“Then trust me!” Grian rebutted, “trust that I won’t let you do anything you wouldn’t want to do.” Mumbo stopped at that, searching the other’s face for any sign of hesitance, any sign of fear, only to find none. He meant it. 

Mumbo sucked in a shaky breath.

“You promise?” 

Grian squeezed his hands, looking up to the vampire with a determined expression.

“I promise.”

_Grian, you are a mad man_.

With that final agreement, the promise, he took a careful step forward towards the smaller, said hermit leaning his head to the side to give Mumbo access to his neck. Just one quick glance over the exposed skin to make sure he’d avoid anything major, he leaned closer, opened his mouth… 

His teeth sunk neatly into the flesh, just as before with Stress. The blood swiftly flooded cleanly into his mouth, coating his tongue.

Before, he had only gotten a small taste of Grian’s blood, just barely enough to taste something. Now, the full flavor of it was as clear as day. Maybe it was the cake, or Grian was just naturally that sweet, but his blood had something… _dessert-like_ to it. Past the initial metallic taste, there was a flavor that reminded him of vanilla sweets. 

Mumbo couldn’t help the groan that slipped past his throat, his tongue working against the muscle of Grian’s neck to help the blood work its way to the surface. The smaller hermit grunted at the feeling, putting his hands to steady himself on Mumbo’s shoulders as the taller pushed forward a little more. 

“Mumbo you’re gonna have to stop soon,” Grian panted, giving a few pats to Mumbo’s shoulder. He gave a noncommittal noise in return, continuing to gulp down what blood he could get.

Of course, though, the universe has it against him, as the others took just that moment to come outside. Instantly, there were many shouts as they all rushed forward, ready to help Grian if he needed it.

However, before any of them could even attempt to pull Mumbo off of the builder, the vampire’s eyes met theirs, and he leaped into action.

Mumbo couldn’t think clearly, one moment he was pleasantly enjoying his meal, and the next he was pulling out of Grian’s neck to snarl and growl at whoever interrupted. His body was moved in front of Grian’s, almost like a wall to shield him off from the others. 

It seemed to have the effect he wanted it to as they all stepped back, hands raised placatingly.   
“Woah, okay, Mumbo let’s just calm down there, buddy,” Grian spoke up from behind him, slowly shifting around the stiff, ready to attack vampire to look him in the eyes. 

The growl that had warned the other hermits returned, though quieter this time, as Mumbo pulled Grian to his chest protectively, putting his nose to the smaller’s hair with a low snarl of, “ _Mine._ ”

Said builder just let out a squeak as he was embraced, glancing from Mumbo to their friends in confusion. 

“It’s okay, Mumbo,” Ren started, hands still raised, “we’re not going to take him from you, alright?” Mumbo shook his head slightly, trying to clear his foggy mind to focus on the words that were directed towards him. “Just… take a few deep breaths.”

Grian’s hands had come up to soothingly rub at Mumbo’s sides, as that was the only place he could reach in his position. 

“Ren’s right, deep breaths, Mumbo,” Grian whispered to him, feeling breathless from the ever-tight embrace. 

The calming words eventually made its way to Mumbo’s brain and he followed through, taking deep, heavy breaths through his nose. The scents all around him were nearly overwhelming, from Grian’s blood to the greenery around them, to each individual scent coming from all the hermits around him. Still, he managed to clear his mind, and when he did, he ripped himself away from the hermit he had been holding. 

“Oh my word… _Oh my word, I-_ ,” Mumbo looked up at them, clenching his shaking hands, “I’m so sor-“

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” Iskall interrupted, glaring the vampire down. Mumbo shrank back at that. Iskall let out a sigh and moved to take a step closer when Mumbo put his hands up, motioning for him to stop. 

“I… I don’t know if coming near me is a good idea right now,” Mumbo started, waving a finger when it looked like Stress was going to pipe up, “because I feel weird right now.” He wished he had a better way of explaining this intense feeling of… _protectiveness_. 

“What do you mean you feel weird?” Iskall asked, cocking an eyebrow in his confusion. 

“It’s like; when I fed from Grian, and you guys came outside to us, I felt protective? It felt like I had to keep him close or else I’d lose him.” Mumbo explained, rubbing his hands together nervously, avoiding any sort of eye contact with anyone, especially Grian himself. It felt almost embarrassing to admit. 

“But you didn’t get like that when you fed from me,” Stress thought aloud. 

“Well, no, but we didn’t have other hermits around us while I did,” Mumbo pointed out, putting his hands on his hips, “that may be a contributing factor.”

It was then that a loud yawn broke the steady stream of conversation, coming from one Rendog himself. All of them turned to look at him silently, and he looked right back sheepishly, shoulders rising to his ears.

“Sorry, it’s just getting late, my dudes.” Everyone nodded at that, giving a few yawns of their own.

“You know what this means,” Iskall cheered, mischief gleaming in his eye.

“Slumber party!” Stress and Grian shouted at the same time, going to high-five. 

At least, they were, until Mumbo rushed up and grabbed Grian, hugging him close again while glaring the ice queen down. Stress just raised a brow and flicked his forehead with a laugh, making him giver her a bewildered look.

“Oh, calm down there guard dog,” she jokingly jabbed at him, getting a few laughs out of the others. 

Yes, this would be an interesting party indeed.


	10. Slumber Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the chapter! It's a bit shorter as I'm getting back into the groove, but I hope you all like it nonetheless. Thanks for reading!

The group piled back into the Sahara building, their minds set on a new objective.

Sleepover. 

Mumbo sat back on one of the chairs in the meeting room, watching in mild amusement as Iskall, Ren, and Stress argued over how to make a blanket fort. Grian wasn’t with them.

No, Grian was where Mumbo was, held closely to the vampire. The builder didn’t seem to mind, much to the redstoner’s delight. Instead, the two of them opted out of the preparation stage, sitting silently except for a chuckle here and there. At least, at the beginning.

Grian quickly grew antsy being cuddled up to the mustached man, wiggling this way and that in a futile attempt to ease his desire to move. He’d never have to sit in one place for long, usually. It didn’t seem like Mumbo was going to let him up anytime soon, either. His grip was ever-tight and… protective. 

The others hardly paid any attention to the two, considering the second they got too close they were rewarded with a warning growl from the red man. 

Mumbo always apologized afterward.

“Mumbo, can I please get up now?” Grian’s whining broke the redstoner out of whatever daze he may have been in. “Seriously, man, I love you, but if I have to sit here any longer I just might explode.” Mumbo suppressed a wince as his thoughts attacked him, _stop inconveniencing your friend_ , and gave a weak smile.

“I- I’m sorry, Grian, uh- sure, you… you can get up,” the words felt terrible coming out of his mouth, like what he was promising was paining him. Regardless, his tight hold around his friend’s middle loosened and his arms slowly went slack. Free, the builder had no hesitance in leaping out of his lap, stretching his arms over his head with a delighted grunt.

“Oh my god,” Grian groaned happily, continuing his stretches, “I thought I was going combust.” After another few stretches, _seriously, how was he even that flexible_ , the shorter hermit turned back to him with a wide grin. “Looks like your clingy streak has ended, huh?” It was said good-naturedly but it still sent a pang through his chest. He morphed his mouth into a smile, hoping it wouldn’t look like a grimace.

“I guess so, go stretch your legs, mate.” On the inside, Mumbo could feel something in him threatening to snap. Nonetheless, he urged his comrade with a dismissive wave of his hand, sending him away with a tight smile. 

The builder gave a quick heads-up to the others, who had thankfully stopped arguing, before exiting the room. It took as much strength as he had in him to not follow his friend with his gaze. 

This frustrated him to no end, he had no right to… to be so _protective_ , he didn’t _own_ Grian, he was a person! Still, something in the back of his brain whined pitifully, attempting to convince him to _follow, hold, protect_. His grip on the chair’s arms tightened, his knuckles lightening to deep pink. Mumbo allowed his neck to relax, his head leaning back until it hit the back of the chair. Closed eyes, a breath, he took a moment to focus on _anything else_. 

“Mumbo! Hey, everything alright over there, my dude?” Ren’s voice reached out to him from the farther side of the room. Mumbo restrained a heavy sigh.

“Peachy,” he grunted, hoping the other was able to hear it. The lack of response caught him off guard and the room was suspiciously silent now. Opening his eyes, he took a peek at the others. 

They were all observing him.

“I’m fine!” Mumbo insisted, his hands coming up. All he got in response were three consecutive eyebrow lifts. “Really, mates, I’m fine.”

“Right,” Iskall began sarcastically, amusement glittering in his eye, “because ‘I’m fine’ means nearly breaking the armrests.” That had Mumbo whipping his head down. 

Sure enough, if he looked closely, he could see mild indents in the wood where his fingers had been grasping the chair. _I can’t catch a break_ , he thought miserably, letting his head hit the chair’s back once again with a dull ‘thunk.’

The group laughed light-heartedly at his reaction. Stress set down the set of blankets she was holding, murmuring a soft, “I got this, loves,” taking her time to approach him. This time she wasn’t greeted with a growl, but instead with a dejected-looking vampire. She hid a giggle behind her hand, taking her other one and gently setting it on his shoulder, giving it a small squeeze.

“What’s got you riled up, darling?” That maternal look returned to her eyes, and Mumbo was reminded of that night at the castle. Sighing, he rested one of his hands atop the one on his shoulder, refusing to meet her gaze. 

“I don’t know, honestly,” he admitted, “it’s just- Grian left and-,” he cut himself off, his brows furrowed. Sensing he was finished, Stress simply nodded sympathetically, moving to sit on the armrest next to him. A steady arm wrapped around his shoulders, tugging him slightly closer into a side hug. Mumbo melted into the embrace, his hard edges softening. 

“It’ll be alright, Mumbo, he’s coming back,” Stress reassured, “you know him, he can never stay in one place too long.” The redstoner nodded in understanding, even as his insides twisted unhappily. The ice queen simply cooed softly at him, somehow pulling him closer. Mumbo didn’t resist, letting her pull at him this way and that until they were both settled in a comfortable position. 

Iskall and Ren watched from a distance, though shyly. Neither wished to intrude on the moment but wished to be keyed into the conversation. Mumbo noticed, of course, but he didn’t mind. 

Though his brain protested, he let himself simply let go in the hold of his fellow hermit, his body falling slack. It was maybe the most relaxed he’d been in a while, at least since the whole vampire thing started. _This is nice_ , his brain provided. A small smile made its way to his lips, his eyelids drooping until they fully closed. Mumbo had a feeling that if he could purr he would at this moment. 

A comfortable silence settled over the room of hermits, each occupied with their own task. Iskall and Ren continued to construct whatever fort had been started, while Stress held Mumbo close, a hand stroking through his hair. It wasn’t complete silence, of course, it couldn’t be with his newly enhanced hearing. Though the noises were soothing, and none were terribly loud. 

Even the heartbeats of his friends around them were calming instead of the usual disturbing feeling it gave him. Mumbo suppressed a shiver at the reminder, snuggling a little closer to Stress who hummed a soft, sweet tune.

If it could, he’d love this moment to last _forever-_

“I’m back, fellas! What’d I miss?”

The hermits all jumped at the sudden voice, the bubble of silence instantly popped. 

Iskall laughed, Ren grinned, Stress groaned, and Mumbo…

Well, he didn’t know. One moment he’d been the most relaxed he’d ever been, the next the thoughts _Grian, protect, hold, guard_ crowded his head. 

A deep-throated growl ripped its way out of his throat, grating his vocal cords. With agility he’d have been impressed with, if it were in any other situation, he leaped over the side of the chair. The vampire landed with a light thud next to where the builder now stood, wide-eyed. 

“Mumbo?” Grian held his hands out in front of him placatingly, palms facing the redstoner, “Hey, everything’s alright.” His voice settled something in the red vampire, and with a grunt he pressed himself closer to Grian, his arms coming to loop around the other’s back. 

The two stood there in an awkward hold, the vampire grumbling into Grian’s neck as he tried to tug him closer.

The hermits, aside from Mumbo, all exchanged worried glances, looking between the builder and the vampire now latched onto him. Stress then cleared her throat.

“Well, looks like that hasn’t lightened up then,” she said with a small frown. They all knew what she was thinking, he’d been so relaxed and then did a full one-eighty. “Mumbo, love, are you alright?” Her worries were answered with more non-verbal grumbles, the man not moving an inch from his spot on the builder. 

“It’s okay guys,” Grian reassured, smiling up at them sweetly, “I don’t mind if the spoon here is feeling a little clingy.” He then raised a hand to lightly ruffle the redstoner’s raven locks.

“Only if you’re sure, bud,” Iskall replied, a matching grin on his face. “Now, Ren and I did all the hard work,” he was granted with a few snickers, “so the tent’s done, which means-“

“Slumber party!” The rest of them finished, the cheer echoing throughout the room. 

…

Mumbo still hadn’t let go by the time they had all jumped into their pajamas. Grian didn’t mind, not really. He’d made sure to try and get out as much energy as possible just in case something like this happened. It was a little inconvenient when it came time to change clothes for the night, but the vampire had agreed to sit outside the door patiently until he was changed. 

Now, the hermits sat around in a circle within their small fort. It held up well enough, Ren and Iskall had put in a lot of work to make it so it wouldn’t collapse if they moved a bit and so far it seemed to have paid off. 

They each sat on their respective sleeping bags, excluding Mumbo who had sidled up next to Grian and chatted. 

It had been relatively normal so far, sharing stories, fictional and not, as well as plenty of jokes and laughs. Overall, it looked like any other sleepover. Then, something caught Grian’s eye. 

“Rendog, what on _earth_ are you doing?” The amount of incredulity in his voice made everyone look towards him, all wearing bemused expressions. Meanwhile, Ren had completely frozen, eyes wide as he looked around the group of hermits. A nervous chuckle escaped him.

“What- whatever do you mean, Grian?” The stuttering earned him a few narrowed eyes, suspicion crawling down all their backs. 

“What do I mean?” The builder asked dramatically, “I _mean_ , why do you have a _raw steak_ just lying about?!” Surely enough, as the others look to where he had pointed, the red meat was sitting innocently beside Ren on its own small plate. Iskall, upon seeing it, immediately erupted with laughter, causing Stress to chuckle. 

“Well- okay look,” Ren let out a small sigh, reaching a hand up to run it nervously through his hair, “I just wanted to see if he,” Ren gestured at Mumbo, “Would notice it.” Silence followed his statement, the hermits’ faces contorted into the most confused looks possible. “Never mind, forget it!” 

“I’ll-,” the vampire mumbled before clearing his throat to speak louder, “I can try it if you’d like.” His voice still managed to sound a bit small but there wasn’t any blatant hesitance to be heard. As far as they could tell, Mumbo was truly willing.

“Aw, Mumbo, you don’t have to do that, darling,” Stress soothed, ever the maternal friend. 

Iskall nodded along with her, “Yeah, dude, I saw how you barfed up that apple,” Mumbo shivered, “don’t worry about trying to eat it.” Grian looked between all of them, pausing in his movements of stroking Mumbo’s hair. Looking down, he tried to meet his friend’s gaze with a small smile.

“You can if you’d like to, Mumbo,” he said softly. As the vampire met his gaze, Grian resumed petting his hair, hoping it’d soothe the ruffled hermit, but Mumbo just smiled.

“No, really, guys, I can’t lie and say I’m not interested,” as if to prove a point, Mumbo leaned forward just enough to drag the plate over to him and Grian, eyeing it. “I mean, it still has blood.” He picked it up from the plate as he said that, looking at the slab of meat.

His friends leaned forward with rapt attention, all of them focusing on the vampire. 

With only slight hesitance, Mumbo bit into the piece of meat, using his fangs to tear a chunk cleanly off of it. He chewed thoughtfully, cocking his head to the side as the flavor settled on his tongue. The first thing he noticed was that he wasn’t outrightly disgusted by it, but the meat tasted… _different_. Mumbo swallowed, his stomach seemingly not finding it repulsive, for now at least. 

The vampire looked up to see his friends looking at him questioningly, and impatiently. Giving a shy chuckle, he lowered the meat back onto the plate, wiping his hands when he was offered a paper towel.

“It was, uh, good?” His statement ended up coming out more like a question. Ren seemed to visibly deflate at that, looking exactly like a kicked puppy. 

“So basically it wasn’t good,” Ren pouted, pulling the plate back to himself. In reply, the redstoner gave him a shrug.

“I mean, it wasn’t bad or anything,” he tried to reassure, putting on his most comforting smile, “but to put it simply, I don’t think it’d be a substantial source of food.” They all nodded slowly at that, processing what he’d said. 

“I was just wondering, Bumbo,” the nickname made the vampire chuckle, “Do you think you can turn into a bat?” Any and all noise instantly stopped…

The silence was replaced with roaring laughter, the group looking at Iskall incredulously. The hermit simply threw his hands in the air in mock disappointment.

“Iskall,” Grian blubbered out between his giggles, “Iskall, why on earth would he turn into a bat?” The builder succumbed to the rest of his laughing fit, holding his sides as tears appeared in the corners of his eyes. The rest of them were no better, scrubbing their hands down their faces to wipe the tears that had escaped. 

“I don’t know, dude! That’s why I’m asking!” Despite what his words may imply, Iskall was just as amused as the rest of them. 

Mumbo’s laughter tapered out into a fond grin, looking around at his gathered friends. It warmed him that despite the situation they were still able to relax into one another, banter being exchanged like nothing was different. The vampire leaned his head onto Grian’s still-shaking shoulder, amused chuckles escaping his fanged mouth. 

“I love you, mate,” Mumbo exclaimed fondly towards Iskall, his eyes crinkling with ever-expanding mirth. Iskall responded in kind by leaping himself at the redstoner, wrapping his arms around him in a tight hug. Mumbo still tensed at the sudden movement but thankfully felt no urge to growl out a warning. Instead, he returned the loving embrace.

Small coos echoed in the small space around the hugging pair, watching the adorable friends. 

Mumbo relaxed his grip on the hermit, expecting the hug to come to an end. Of course, Iskall then surprised him by hugging tighter, leaning more of his weight on the mustached man until they were both knocked over. Grian, sitting beside the two, had unfortunately gotten caught in the fray, tumbling down with them. 

The three hermits found themselves in a messy cuddle pile. None of them could bring themselves to move, so instead, they set out to get comfier. Wanting in, Stress and Ren too found their own way in, cuddling up into the mass of hermits clad in pajamas. 

The vampire glanced around him, eyes soft. He couldn’t remember a time recently where he had felt so safe, so _loved_. Positive emotions swirled and expanded in his chest, making him snuggle deeper into the others.

Stress’s hand found its way to his hair, carefully brushing it away from his forehead in repeated motions. Mumbo leaned into the soft touch, a comfortable smile pulling at his lips. 

From there, the now bundled-up hermits continued their conversations. Mixes of soft laughter and quiet voices making the small space feel even warmer. Because of this, it didn’t take long for the vampire’s eyes to droop, a pleased hum escaping his throat. Stress just smiled. 

“Just rest, you spoon,” Grian mumbled, his own eyes having shut not much earlier. Mumbo responded with a small pat to the builder’s face, wordlessly expressing his exasperation. 

Regardless, he listened to his friend. Just like that, as he succumbed to the pull of sleep, he smiled fondly. Here, he was safe with his friends, his family, all gathered around him like a protective blanket. The vampire drifted into a deep sleep, already awaiting his friends’ happy faces he’d see in the morning. 

Farther away, as the group fell asleep, whispers and plans reverberated through dark halls lined with tile. A figure, leaning on their sword, nodded in understanding.

_They knew their job_.

**Author's Note:**

> I do not write very often at all so any constructive criticism is very welcome! That being said thanks for reading and Kudos and comments are very appreciated! :)


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